


Kiss of Fury

by Emberxashton



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberxashton/pseuds/Emberxashton
Summary: Blaire Storm is a true born child of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister that was kidnapped by Euron Greyjoy during the Greyjoy rebellion. She quickly escapes and grows up in the North under the careful supervision of Ned Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. One of the many problems she will come to face is that she is completely unaware of her parentage. What will happen when the secret comes out?Long Version of a Game of Thrones Fix it, starts in season 1!
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen & Original Female Character(s), Jon Snow & Original Female Character(s), Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Ramsay Bolton/Original Female Character(s), Robb Stark & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. I Am No Princess

It was a warm, muggy night. The clouds were abundant; the fire from the lamps burned bright, and Mother's voice was pleasant and soft. Cara, a beautiful girl whose eighth name day was almost upon her, sat in Mother's lap with a smile and looked up with dreamy green eyes as Mother continued her story.

"And the lion said to the stag, Hear my words, be wary of where you stray, for my kindness has limits, and my patience wears thin."

Cara giggled, "I hope the lion eats the stag. He's very foolish."

"Yes," Mother said, smiling down at her child, tucking a strand of Cara's long blonde hair behind her ear. "The stag is very foolish, but the lion does not eat the stag."

"Why doesn't he? The stag should be punished for what he's done." Cara whined. Her smile vanished as she lifted her head to get a better look at Mother's face.

"You're absolutely right, he should be punished."

"Then why hasn't he?"

"Because the lion needs the stag," a small voice answered not far from them.

The pair looked at the small figure resting by the fireplace, her strange eyes staring deep into the flames. Mother looked at her other daughter as Blaire, a reckless girl of six, glanced at the pair of them. Her dark hair was short, making her look like a boy. The scratches and cuts on her pale skin from climbing trees and picking fights with other children only encouraged that image, which Mother did not approve of. Still, as Blaire's blue and green eyes looked into her own, she couldn't hold onto any enmity for her child's wildness.

Mother smiled a small smile, and nodded, "That's right, Blaire. In a way, the lion does need the stag."

"Why would the lion need him? He is stupid, mean, and he almost got the lion's family killed!" Cara shouted, pulling away from Mother's embrace to stand before her, nearly falling to the ground as she did.

"Shush darling, shush" Mother tried to soothe her, but Cara resisted.

"Why would the lion need the stag?!" she shouted, almost screaming.

"Because the stag rules the forest," Blaire once again answered and looked to Mother for confirmation.

Mother didn't say anything, but her silence was answer enough. 

"Why does the stag rule," Cara was livid at Mother and Blaire's interaction. "Why doesn't the lion rule the forest?"

"Because lions don't belong in the forest, they belong in places with wide open spaces where they can show their dominance," Blaire said, and Cara turned her anger towards Blaire.

"I want Mother to answer!"

"Hush darling" Mother stood from her chair and pulled Cara back into her embrace. Once more, Cara resisted and pushed passed Mother in order to get the door. She moved briskly, her back stiff, and fists clenched. Her legs faltered just before she reached the door, and fell against the hardwood before she opened it, and took one last look at Mother and Blaire.

"Lions don't kneel to stags, they eat them."

She slammed the door behind her with her parting message left hanging in the air. Mother was disappointed in Cara's tantrum, but instead of leaving to comfort her, she turned towards Blaire. She was looking into the fire once more, her arms wrapped loosely around her legs as they touched her chest. Her chin rested on her knee as she stared into the flames, completely unaware of the world.

"Don't get to close, it'll burn you." Mother said as she knelt gracefully to sit at Blaire's side.

"The Targaryen's didn't burn" Blaire mumbled.

"Do you know why they didn't burn?"

"Because they were dragons," Blaire answered, and Mother smiled. 

"Yes my sweet, in a way they were."

"But they're gone now," Blaire continued, her voice firm while her eyes were sad.

"Yes, your father saw to that many years ago." She placed a warm hand on Blaire's shoulder, and Blaire finally looked away from the flames to Mother's face.

"They were bad, right? They hurt someone very close to him?"

"Yes they did" Mother nodded and touched Blaire's chin, wanting to keep eye contact with her. 

"Do you know why the lions left the open spaces for the forest?" Mother asked as her green eyes stared intensely into Blaire's strange ones.

"There was nothing left to rule where they were, all the animals fled to the forest where the stag was king."

"So why would the lion go to the forest?"

"To take his Kingdom back," Blaire realized, "and he needs the stag to trust him in order to do so."

"You are so smart my darling" she smiled, petting Blaire's hair before kissing her forehead. "Have you been in the maester's books again?"

"No," Blaire said quickly, her eyes quickly looking away to the window.

Mother raised an eyebrow and Blaire relented with "maybe once or twice."

"You know I don't want you to be in his chambers."

"I know." Blaire shrugged.

"He isn't a good person, that is why you need to stay away-"

"I do stay away from him, but his books are not always with him." Blaire interrupted and smiled at Mother's stumped expression. 

"You are ever resourceful my sweet." Mother relented, petting her short hair.

"I have to be if I ever want to be anything."

"But you are someone" Mother's voice was riddled with surprise. She was about to continue when the door opened once more, and Father stepped through the threshold smiling that big oafish smile that made Mother grind her teeth, and Blaire scream "Papa!"

"Blaire!" his booming voice sounded through the room as he opened his muscular arms. Blaire pushed herself from the floor and sprinted towards him. He picked her up with his strong arms and threw her into the air, catching her before she hit the ground. He held her tight in his embrace as his thick beard tickled her face, making her laugh.

Father was a big, tall man with a long, thick black beard that smelled of wine and held crumbs of food. His eyes were the color of faded blue, and the skin of his hands was tough, scarred, and weathered. His strong arms bristled with his astounding strength, muscles still rippling from training earlier in the day. He would often catch Blaire watching him train, and when he did he would always beckon her to him. He would hold her close and whisper in her ear, "This is how you do it, girl" and step away to knock his sparring partner down with a swing of his hammer. It always made Blaire excited, especially when he let her hold his battle ax, which was far too big for a girl of six to hold but hold it she did.

Mother stood from her place on the ground and stared at the pair of them. She showed no sign of emotion as her green eyes observed, but jealousy and loathing were hard to contain when you couldn't make your own daughter smile in that way. Her long, fair hair reached her waist, and her small body appeared even more so in Father's presence. Her robes were gold and blue, and her beautiful face glowed in the firelight. One small consolation Mother felt as she stared was Blaire's left eye that bared Mother's green color and the beauty of her pale face. She might have Father's spirit, but there was no denying that Blaire was indeed her child just as much as Cara and her other children were. 

"Where have you been Papa?" Blaire asked.

He laughed his booming laugh, "On the hunt, we'll be having boar tonight." He laughed again as he turned, and carried her out into the golden hall, leaving Mother to follow.

"Where's your sister?"

"Her room, she didn't like the story Mother was telling tonight."

"You" he pointed to one of the guards outside of the room they vacated, who stood at attention when called upon.

"Fetch Cara, she and her Mother will be joining us for dinner tonight." He commanded, nodding towards Mother in his command.

The guard bowed his head and pressed on with Mother, who gave one last fleeting glance at Blaire, who didn't spare her a second look. 

Father talked to Blaire all about the hunt, going into detail about how he killed the boar with his bare hands as he carried her all the way to the banquet hall. He laughed his booming laugh, and she joined him happily. It was good to see Father when he wasn't in one of his moods, moods where he's louder than usual and harder to understand because his words blended together, and very red in the face. His face was clear tonight, and his words were crisp in his bellowing voice. Blaire felt oddly hopeful for tonight; dinners with Father didn't always go according to plan. 

They entered the banquet hall and arrived to see the grand table arranged with a great feast. The food was still hot, the steam billowing out from the boar presented before them. Father set Blaire on her feet, and she ran to take the seat closest to him. He pulled out her chair and pushed it in for her once she was sitting.

"Dig in," he boomed with a smile as he took his seat. Blaire had just grabbed a peach from the fruit platter when she noticed that they weren't alone in the room.

Two men stood not far from where they sat. Blaire noticed that both were tall with an air of royalty about them. One was a balding man with fair hair and a large belly that was covered with golden robes hinted with blue, adorned with equally gold roses. His expression was pompous, and his gaze was one of studious measurement, one that Blaire did not welcome. The other was leaner, more rugged, and very handsome. His eyes wandered around the room, glancing at Blaire repeatedly as his fingers played with something shiny, and sharp.

Blaire was still eating the peach while she watched Father tear apart the boar. He placed a piece of it on her plate, along with the plates set for Mother and Cara. He saved the biggest portion for himself and almost swallowed it whole with his glass of wine. Blaire started on another peach, staring curiously at the rugged man, who was beginning to intrigue her with his rugged look when Mother and Cara finally arrived.

Cara's wide face was red from crying. Her green eyes stuck out through the redness on her cheeks, her long fair hair fell in the same waves as Mother's. Her slight frame huddled against Mother's as they approached the table hand in hand. Blaire noticed from her observation that the pompous, balding man stared eagerly at Cara, while the rugged man didn't even glance at her, his eyes now solely resting on Blaire, which she didn't find very comforting. 

While Cara had Mother's fair hair, Blaire had Father's, but as many have said, they both inherited Mother's beauty. Blaire wasn't sure what that meant, but somehow she was sure she wasn't going to like it someday. Her eyes held both colors from her parents, her right eye blue while her left eye was green. She was a bit taller and thinner than Cara, who was shorter and squattier. She showed more of Father in her build, while Blaire favored Mother.

One would think that Cara would be like Father when it comes to physicality, but she wasn't. She couldn't walk anywhere without someone there to help her. Her legs didn't work very well, the maester said it had something to do with the muscles, and how they didn't form properly while in Mother's womb. Meanwhile, Blaire was often caught climbing walls, jumping from great heights, shooting arrows into targets that she carved into the trees in the Godswood, and fighting with wooden swords with local boys. Not a day would go by that she wasn't chastised by Mother, but like with his training sessions, Father would always encourage her to do more, so she did. It brought Blaire closer to Father, and oddly enough it brought her closer to Mother too. It made Cara incredibly jealous. Though she was their first born, she knew that Blaire was their favorite, and it always made her angry whenever they gave Blaire the attention that she so richly desired. 

Mother took her place next to Father, and Cara took her place beside her, directly across from Blaire. Once seated they merely looked at the food for a good moment before attempting to eat. Father didn't seem to notice or simply didn't care as he started to talk again. The pompous man started forward, while the rugged man stayed put.

"Great things are happening girls, great things indeed."

"What do you mean Father?" Cara asked in a soft voice, completely unaware of the other men in the room.

"Why your name day of course" Mother interjected, giving Father a reproachful look.

He ignored her, "No, I'm talking about the Ironborn. Reports have said they're growing restless on their damn island."

"Children don't need to hear about that filth" Mother stated, and Father in return gave her a look of warning.

"Papa, who are those men," Blaire asked curiously, taking the last bite from the peach as Father stiffened.

"An excellent question, darling don't you have something else you would like to discuss with the girls?" Mother tried a bit more firmly, and this time Father appeared to listen.

"I suppose we'll get to the Ironborn in a bit. Girls, your Mother and I have something to tell you."

He stopped eating, which Blaire knew to be a bad sign. She looked to Cara, and while she looked furiously at her, she could tell that Cara was just as nervous as she was. Father cleared his throat and took another drink from his goblet. Mother stood from her chair, leaving her food untouched as she walked to stand behind him. The pompous man was now a few feet from the table, and the rugged man leaned against the wall, staring intensely at Blaire.

"Your Father has decided that you both will be leaving soon in order to grasp a better understanding of the seven kingdoms." She paused, letting the news sink in before continuing, her voice wavering. "It will be a long journey, one that I'm afraid either of you will return from for some time."

"What?" Blaire was completely taken aback by the news. Cara too looked stunned, and very scared, which made the situation much worse.

"Cara will be journeying to Highgarden, where she will stay with the Tyrell's and learn to become a proper lady fit for a lord." Father didn't look at her when he spoke his command, but he did look to Blaire with sad eyes.

"I don't want to leave Mother!" Cara shouted shrilly, attempting to stand only to fall back in her chair.

Mother tried to move towards her, but Father grabbed her by the arm and forced her into place.

"Don't, this needs to be done," Father growled, and while Mother stayed in place, though this time she couldn't hide her feelings of disgust and fury. He released her from his grasp as he nodded to the pompous man, and he took his place behind Cara, who looked frightened as she looked behind her chair to see him so close to her.

"Blaire," Father continued, "Your journey will start in Dorne, where you will stay with the Martells."

Blaire took one last look at the rugged man, finding his eyes never wavered from her face, and glared at Father in disbelief, refusing to speak.

"It'll be fine Blaire," Father spoke when she didn't respond.

Blaire didn't think as she pushed away from the table, knocking the chair behind her, only reacted when she saw the pompous man place a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"Sit down Blaire" Father commanded in his bellowing voice, but Blaire no longer cared to listen. She grabbed fruit from the platter and threw it in the pompous man's face. He shouted as it collided with his eyes. She climbed onto the table and threw herself at him, punching him in his fat face as they fell to the ground. She landed on top of him and kept punching him as he screamed, trying to cover his face with pitiful success.

"Run Cara!" Blaire shouted to Cara's frightened face, her eyes wide with shock when Blaire felt strong hands at her waist and was suddenly pulled away from the now bleeding bald man. Father threw her away from him and she fell hard to the ground, the impact briefly stunning her as she rolled to her feet and stood defiantly. Father was furious, Mother was stunned, Cara was stumbling away, the pompous man was crying and bleeding from his nose, and the rugged man was now smiling with glee, no longer leaning against the wall as he rose to stalk closer to Blaire's unaware form.

"What is the bloody meaning of this!?" Father shouted, his eyes wild with rage.

"How could you do this" Blaire shouted back to him, anger welling up in her chest. "How could you let a man like that take Cara away from her home?"

"It's what needs to be done!"

"If sending a scared child who can barely walk into a place that holds a man like him is what's needed then I want no part of it!"

"You will do as you're told, or I will force you to do so!"

"Like you did with Mother? Hurting her so she'll do your bidding?!" Blaire challenged him, pointing to Mother, who looked taken aback and for a brief moment, proud of her daughter in spite of the chaos around them.

"You are going to Dorne and you will be leaving tomorrow! Make your peace with that!"

"Never," Blaire said, grabbing another piece of fruit and throwing it at his face before grabbing a knife. Before either realized what was happening, Blaire used the knife in a steady hand and grazed Father's waiting hand with its sharp edge. His eyes blazed with pain and shock, and before he could blink, Blaire moved, and this time the knife hit its mark. Above his right knee, Blaire's knife stabbed Father in the thigh, and he howled as his bleeding hand struck Blaire's face, and sent her flying once more.

This time, Blaire didn't touch the ground; instead, she was caught by another pair of strong arms that wrapped themselves tightly around her, trapping her in his firm embrace and forcing her to be still.

The rugged man smirked as she struggled in his grasp. It wasn't because he wanted to hurt her; he wanted a fighting spirit, and in Blaire, he found one. He was reluctant to come here because the last thing he wanted to deal with was a simpering fool who was too weak to stand on her own. Now, his fears had been dashed, and he was relieved and excited at the prospect Blaire was going to be.

Father whirled towards Blaire, pulling the knife from his leg as he looked at her defiant face with rage.

"How dare you-" Father started.

"How dare you!" Blaire interrupted, still struggling against her captor. "How can you call yourself our father if you're willing to send us away like we're nothing?"

"Because it's what must be done" he growled, throwing the knife away from him, the blood spattering along the floor as it landed on the mortar. "In time you'll understand".

"I wish the Targaryens killed you! Burned you alive with their dragons!" Blaire shouted, and the rugged man stilled at her comment, looking warily up at the King.

Father's rage couldn't be contained to merely stand there in the silence left after Blaire's insult. He turned away from her, grabbed hold of the grand table, and flipped it. His wine went flying, spraying Mother and the still bleeding pompous man. The food splattered all along the floor, with the dishes clattering all throughout the room. 

Father turned back to look at Blaire's captor, his eyes red with rage.

"Take her now; I want her on Dornish soil and training by first light."

With that Father turned and cursed as he left the room, limping as blood trickled down his leg, leaving a trail in his wake as he yelled and screamed like a wounded boar.

Blaire fought harder, only to be thwarted as the rugged man whispered, "You are in no danger of me Princess," and turned her abruptly to face his rugged, handsome face.

Blaire was ready to hit him, just as she did with the pompous man when the rugged man surprised her. He released one of his hands from her shoulders and held the shiny object he had been playing with when she first saw him. It was a tiny dagger, one that could easily be concealed in one's hand, and it glistened beautifully in the candlelight. It surprised Blaire enough that she stopped struggling for the moment, and the rugged man took the opportunity.

"A fighter must always find a weapon in combat; while a warrior is never without one. Which are you, my Princess?"

"I'm not a Princess" Blaire mumbled, absently reaching for the dagger, but the rugged man pulled it away from her.

"Of course you are, or else I wouldn't be here whisking you off to Dorne."

"Then I'm definitely not a princess." Blaire glared at the rugged man, trying to pull away once more, but he held on tight.

"You are Blaire, and you will soon be one that not even I would want to contend with."

"Why?"

"Your sister" he gestured his head towards Cara, who was being led out of the room by the guards with the bleeding pompous man being helped behind her, "is being taken by Lord Tyrell to live with his family in order to become a real lady."

"That doesn't make sense; she can learn to become a lady here, so why send her away?"

"Good question now let me counter it with one of my own. Why send the two eldest daughters and keep the rest of the litter here?" He asked, staring imploringly at her.

"The rest are just babies. They still need Mother to survive."

"Yes, but why is there a need to send any of the children away at all?"

Blaire pondered his question, her need for escape momentarily forgotten as more guards came into the room. Before they could make their way towards Blaire, the rugged man stopped them with a fierce look and turned his attention back to Blaire.

"The Ironborn" Blaire answered, and the rugged man smiled, "Mother didn't want Father to talk about them."

"What about the Ironborn?"

"They're doing something, something bad."

"So why would The King send his eldest daughters away?"

"So they can't get us?"

"Yes, so they can't hurt you."

"But why separate us?"

"Possibly because it's harder to get both of the King's daughters when they are going in separate directions" The rugged man answered Blaire, showing her the dagger again as he continued, "or maybe there's another purpose for the separation?"

"Why am I going with you?" Blaire looked curiously at the rugged man, and he smiled.

"Which are you, my Princess? A fighter, or a warrior?" he asked, holding out the tiny dagger to her once more.

She didn't answer his question, only stared at the silver dagger in his hand. She had more questions, ones that he seemed keen to answer, but that didn't mean she wanted to leave with him. Blaire glanced behind her, and she didn't see an opening or any way she could pass the guards.

She was surrounded.

The rugged man sensed her apprehension. He turned the dagger over in his fingers and placed the hilt into her hand. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of it in her hand, and she looked into his dark eyes. He saw the beginning of trust there, and he intended to capitalize on it.

He released her from his grasp, and backed away a step or two to give her space, his eyes never straying from hers as he returned to his kneeling position.

"That's an interesting mark upon your hand; I suspect you were born with it?" He mentioned offhandedly, his eyes measuring her response.

Blaire looked at her right hand that held the dagger. On the inside of her palm was a birthmark in the shape of a spiral. Dark red in color it stood out from the pink flesh of her skin. She also had another birthmark in the shape of wings on the back of the same hand. It bared the same red color as the spiral, and it always made the local boys laugh. They would always point at her and call her a slave that's run a long way from home (slaves' bared tattoos on their skin for their occupation). It was part of the reason why she had gotten into so many fights with the local boys, and why Father often encouraged it.

Blaire shrugged yet glared at him in defiance, daring him to insult her. He grinned instead and nodded with approval.

"You're far more than I expected sweet princess-" he was saying, but Blaire took a step forward and interrupted him.

"I am neither sweet nor a princess." She gripped the dagger tightly in her hand.

"Your Father is the King; therefore, you are the princess."

She began to refute him, but this time he cut her off.

"If you are not a princess, then what are you?"

Blaire paused, thinking about it before answering, "Me".

"What are you, young Blaire?" He took a step forward, staring deep into her eyes. "Who is Blaire Baratheon?"

Blaire thought about it for another moment. She straightened her back and stared deep into the rugged man eyes as she took a purposeful step close to him.

"A fighter who doesn't need a title, or anyone to take care of her," and with that, she moved. 

He caught her hand before the dagger could slice his face, but he was unable to dodge the kick aimed towards his groin. She connected easily, and it stunned him, leaving him wheezing. It wasn't enough to release the hold on her hand, so she used her moment to bite into the flesh of his wrist. It didn't work like she hoped, instead it distracted him the pain in his groin as he stood, and slung her over his shoulder, causing her to release him immediately.

"Let me go!" she screamed, pounding her fists on his back when she noticed the dagger was gone.

"Be careful when you choose your opponent's sweet princess, you have a lot to learn before taking on someone like me." The rugged man was walking towards the exit, holding her tight as she continued the onslaught of punches to his back.

The guards suddenly surrounded them and walked with them as the rugged man took her out of the room, and down the long golden halls. They moved quickly and swiftly, almost jumping down the numerous steps that led to the ground floor of the castle. The rugged man never stopped, and the guards soon found themselves racing to keep up with him.

Meanwhile, Blaire's punches were losing their sting, and soon she was struggling for breath. Despite that, she didn't stop, stubbornly continuing her abuse though she was quickly losing strength to carry on. The rugged man sensed this but pushed further on for a moment more until they reached the entrance to the castle. He quickly set her down on the ground but kept his grip as she tried to make another run for it.

"Blaire, remember what we talked about?"

He grabbed her chin gently so she would look at him and listen to him, and was happy to see that she did. She fought to catch her breath while he spoke to her.

"Your Father doesn't want you here, Blaire." Her eyes went wide with his statement, and he felt her freeze within his grasp.

"He doesn't want me?" she mumbled, and the rugged man hesitated, wondering what was best to do when the King and Queen finally arrived.

The rugged man noticed the Queen's severe expression, and the King's tear stained cheeks as he limped forward towards Blaire. She didn't spare them a look, her eyes focused only on the rugged man.

"Time to go," Father said gruffly, standing tall as he lumbered over to Blaire with Mother at his side. He reached out to her, but she shirked away from his touch, her eyes showing hurt and anger.

"Darling" Mother stepped up close, and the rugged man moved as she kneeled before her, gently taking her face in her graceful hands.

"Blaire please look at me" Mother pleaded with her, caressing her cheek as her eyes began to flood with tears.

Blaire too had trouble keeping the tears at bay, but succeed she did, taking deep breaths to calm herself as she looked into her Mother's worried eyes.

"I need you to listen to me for we don't have much time left." Mother whispered urgently, and leaned in close to Blaire's ear, talking so softly that not even the rugged man could hear her. The King grew impatient and looked at the rugged man expectantly. He didn't heed the King's warning; instead, he watched Blaire's face, measuring her expression as the Queen continued her whispers. Blaire's strange eyes only widened once, right as the Queen finished her secret word with her.

Mother pulled away to look deep into Blaire's eyes, particularly the green one, once more caressing the cheek beneath it.

"You are so strong, my sweet." Mother hugged her daughter one last time. The rugged man heard her say "Don't forget what I've told you, promise me. Promise me you won't forget."

She pulled away to look into Blaire's eyes one last time, and instead of answering, Blaire merely nodded, not looking at Mother. The Queen placed a kiss on her forehead, and finally released her daughter, backing away until she was side by side with the King.

"Get her out of here," The King said gruffly to the rugged man when Blaire still refused to look at him. 

Blaire didn't struggle as the rugged man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and guided her away from The King and Queen. She moved in sync beside him, her fists clenched and shoulders stiff. They moved quickly through the entrance of the castle, and quicker still through the city streets. 

Not once did Blaire try to run, causing suspicion to rise within the rugged man. He was waiting for her move, some attempt at escape once more. She remained beside him in spite of his suspicion. It made him weary, but also curious. There was more to this girl than meets the eye, and he was determined and impatient to find out. 

Blaire didn't know what to do, or what to think. She was being taken; taken from her home, from her family, from all the memories that she made here within the walls of this castle. Mother's goodbye was as confusing as it was heartless, and Blaire found it hard to keep the tears at bay. She focused on the one thing she could do in her darkest moment, keep moving.

Out the entrance and deep into the heart of the city they went. Countless faces stared at the guards as they passed. The rugged man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and kept it there as they continued onward. Never slowing, never ceasing, and never flinching as they moved through the mass of people in the streets of Kings Landing. When Blaire finally came to her senses, they arrived at the harbor, and the ship was ready to set sail.

The rugged man felt Blaire hesitate. He briefly changed course and stopped with her at the edge of the port. Then he kneeled before her and stared deep into her eyes.

"I know this is scary, but what is happening now is best for what is to come tomorrow."

"What will come tomorrow?"

"A new home, a new life, and most importantly" he paused, revealing the dagger once more. He placed it back in her shaking hand, holding it tightly, "a chance to show the world who you truly are, my princess."

"Do you really think I can?"

"Doesn't matter what I think, it matters what you know, what you know deep in your heart, a place so deep that no one could ever change it.”

Her strange eyes looked lost, but her mouth was firm as she stared into the rugged man's eyes. He smiled encouragingly, unable to stop himself from petting her short, tufty hair.

"Why is your hair like this?"

"The boys kept pulling on it whenever they tried to fight me. It was the only thing they could do to stop me from bloodying them."

The rugged man laughed, "Smart,” he paused for a moment before asking, "How long was it before?"

Blaire didn't speak; she gestured to her shoulder and shrugged.

"Not the first time you cut it?"

"It gets in the way"

The rugged man smiled, gently grabbing her tufty hair, "From now on your hair will grow, and will not be cut."

"Why? You just said it was smart-"

"It was smart for the boys to use it against you, but it was not smart of you to cut it."

"But it helped me-"

"By cutting your hair, the only advantage those boys had over you, they won anyway."

"How?"

"Because by cutting your hair you admitted defeat, you showed them that they got to you, and you had to change, to lower yourself to their level to defeat them."

"I lowered myself by cutting my hair?"

"Yes, sweet princess. You showed weakness."

"I don't believe you."

"I have been nothing but honest with you since we have met, and I promise you I'll continue to be nothing but honest with you. So why would you not believe me?"

"Because Mother has made the same argument as you and it's only getting more tiresome."

"What does The Queen say about it?"

"That just because I don't like it doesn't mean I should cut it. It's what the world sees that matters, and that's stupid."

"Ah" the rugged man nodded, finally understanding Blaire's stance. "You don't want to be what others see."

"All they see is a stupid girl that needs help doing everything. They think I'm like Cara, but I'm not!" Blaire was beginning to shout, and the rugged man calmed her by placing both hands on her shoulders.

"I know what you feel, Blaire."

"How?"

"Because we are much alike, you and I," he paused, glancing over towards the ships. "But now is not the right time for that story. It's time for us to go."

Blaire once again hesitated, but this time the rugged man didn't comfort her. He tightened his grip on her shoulder and pulled her along the harbor and towards the ship. 

"It will be fine, Blaire. Soon enough you will be walking on Dornish sand, swimming through crisp waters, and smelling fresh air, not the shit that encapsulates this city." The rugged man steered her to the ramp connected to the ship.

Blaire froze at the edge, looking up with wide eyes and stiff shoulders. He rubbed her shoulders once more, and whispered in her ear, "It's alright to be afraid, it means you're smart. But the choice you face now will determine your fate, sweet princess. What will you do with the fear in your heart? Will you accept it, and use it to your advantage? Or will you deny it, and let it rule you?"

Blaire listened attentively, her eyes never straying from the wooden ramp. She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. With purposeful steps, she walked onto the ship. Shortly behind her, the rugged man grinned.

She stood at the edge looking out at the sea as the men started gathering around on the ship, readying themselves to set sail. Despite the fact that she was leaving home, and the knowledge that Father no longer wanted her, Blaire started to feel rather uneasy. A deep-seated feeling in her gut made her think that something was about to happen, something bad.

Near her, Blaire heard the rugged man barking orders at the men, and their response was immediate. In no time, the ship began to move away from the port and out into the black sea with surprising quickness. Blaire had the urge to look back at the city, at her home, but ultimately refused. Father didn't want her. Mother let him send her and Cara away like they were nothing. Because of that, Blaire decided that if they didn't want her, then she didn't want them.

She stayed in her spot for a long while, looking out amongst the view until she knew they had long left the city. The rugged man stayed near her all the while, never leaving her sight. At times he would go to yell at his men, telling them to continue with their duties or be thrown off the ship, only to return to her side with a small smile shortly after. Other times he would try to talk to her, but despite the plethora of unanswered questions buzzing through her mind, she refused and remained silent. It was when the rugged man tried to get her to talk once more that Blaire saw something peculiar in the distance.

"What is that?"

The rugged man's eyes narrowed at the sight, "It's a ship" he answered brusquely. 

"Not one of yours?" Blaire guessed, but the rugged man didn't answer. Just as she saw the one ship, more started to emerge. Before she could blink, bright lights started flying up into the sky. Blaire briefly thought how pretty they looked when they suddenly started coming down. She had enough presence of mind to back away when fiery arrows struck the ship all around her, including the spot where she was just standing.

"They're here!" The rugged man pulled her roughly into his arms, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of his men throw a spear towards him, to which he caught with ease. He moved swiftly yet aggressively, shoving men out of his way until he reached the entrance to the bottom deck. "Go beneath the deck, and hide. Don't come out for anyone but me."

"What's happening?"

"Now is not the time for questions." He set her down and turned away towards his men, who were awaiting his command. Blaire grabbed his free hand and turned him back towards her.

"No, tell me what is happening!"

"Blaire-"

"You promised you would be honest with me, refusing to tell me something that could hurt me is not being honest!"

He kneeled before her, his eyes wild behind his otherwise cool expression.

"Those ships do not belong to me or anyone from my country, there have been threats made against you and your sister from the Ironborn, and you are now under my protection which means I refuse to let anything happen to you. This is a serious threat to us and against you, which means we must fight, and we must win. Now go beneath the deck and hide until I come to fetch you. Go!" He pushed her gently towards the entrance, and with a nod, she ran towards it, her newly gifted dagger tight within her grasp.

She jumped down the steps with ease, racing amongst the men as they readied themselves for the battle. Her eyes glanced around her surroundings, trying to find any good hiding spots as the men started shouting from up above. Finally, she saw a door that stood ajar and ran towards it. She suspected that this was the rugged man's room. It was lavish with reds and golds with an assortment of weapons on the ornate table under the window. She moved towards the weapons, finding most of them to be too big for her, leaving her only with her dagger. The shouting suddenly escalated, and the ship rocked as a loud crash sounded through her ears, sending the table of weapons crashing to the floor. Blaire had backed away just in time, trying to control her breathing when she heard a scream close to her.

She looked through the open door and saw a man on the ground near the steps leading up to the top deck. He was bleeding; his hands abandoned his weapon as another man came stalking down the steps.

"No," he pleaded, "NO!" he shouted once more as an ax plunged into his chest, a cruel laugh shadowing his wheezing breaths. The man kneeled down to his kill, spat in his face, and pulled the ax roughly from his chest, blood spurting out of him and spraying all over the floor. Blaire couldn't move, frozen in her spot as she watched the man stand once more, surveying his surroundings.

He too was rugged, Blaire noticed, though it was clear that this man did not come from royalty. His clothes were worn and frayed, yet she could tell they were far more durable than the rugged man's and his men. He was covered in blood, and even in Blaire's young mind, she knew it belonged to more than his most recent kill. His face was covered in more blood, dripping past his cold eyes, and into his mouth, which was smiling wickedly. Blaire realized a second too late that he was staring at her, and barely had enough time to react when he suddenly charged towards her.

She slammed the door in his face and rushed out of sight, careful to avoid the weapons as she raced to hide behind the fallen table. She didn't want to hide, but after realizing how easy it was for the rugged man to subdue her, she didn't want to give this man a chance, especially after seeing what he could do with his ax.

The door burst open with a crash, and the cruel laugh returned. She shrunk lower, hoping against hope he wouldn't be able to find her. She heard his steps close by, meaning he was in the room.

"Come on out, Princess. I know you're in here."

Blaire kept her mouth closed, her hand gripped tight around the dagger, fear rippling through her chest.

"Don't worry sweet one, I'm only here to fetch you. If you come with me, nice and easy, you'll be in no danger of me."

There was a soft thud, and Blaire risked a look, noticing he had just shut the door behind him. His cold eyes were full of malice and surveyed the room with equally cold calculation. She felt water on her face and looked up to find the window was now open, giving her hope.

"It's okay; you don't need to worry if you're having trouble moving. Just reveal yourself, and I'll come to fetch you and take you home. I promise."

In that instant, Blaire realized who the cold man was referring to. He thought she was Cara, and though escape was at her fingertips, Blaire's fear vanished with a surge of blinding hot anger. She gripped the dagger impossibly tight behind her back and roughly stood to her feet.

The cold man had his back turned to her, believing her to be hiding under the bed, and Blaire took advantage. She jumped over the table and shoved the dagger deep into the side of his leg. He shrieked as she pulled the dagger out and then ran towards the door. She opened it with ease. She turned back to see him struggling to stand, leaning on the bed for support.

"Looks like you're the one that needs help now." Blaire taunted and then slammed the door in his face. She turned to see more dead bodies around her, bloodied and maimed. She did her best to ignore them as she raced back upstairs to the top deck. She heard the cold man advance behind her, shouting with all his might as he raced to catch up with her, only to stumble among the slain bodies.

The top deck was on fire, a bloody massacre. Blaire briefly noticed corpses had amassed at the edge of the battlefield the ship had suddenly become before bravely running through the carnage. The cold man had made it up the stairs, his eyes deathly, roaring with anger as he charged after her once more. One of the rugged man's men suddenly rushed him, giving Blaire the chance to once again make a run for it.

Blood was flying, screams shot towards the sky, and Blaire raced towards the foremast in a desperate attempt to escape the cold man. She started climbing, which turned out to be a very bad idea for more reasons than one.

Firstly, it alerted every man, both the rugged man's and the cold man's, to her suddenly being on the top deck. Secondly, the foremast was not stable, and as she started to climb, she felt it shake beneath her. Thirdly, it was born out of desperation, which rarely meant it was actually a good idea.

Still, Blaire climbed up the trembling mast, attempting to escape battle below her.

"Blaire!" she heard the rugged man's voice. She looked down to see him right below her, his eyes enraged at the sight of her disobeying him. Further, in the distance, she saw the cold man, his smile matching his cruel eyes as he slaughtered yet another man, who fell lifelessly to his feet.

"Give it up Dornishman!" the cold man shouted to the rugged man, who displayed his spear in defiance. "She's coming with me!"

"No Greyjoy, she will not. For you will be dead before you touch her!" With that, he lunged.

As the two engaged in battle, Blaire watched, abandoning her climb in favor of observing the fight. She had to admit, they were incredible. Better than Father on his best day, and in Blaire's biased opinion, that was quite a feat. The cold man was aggressive, despite his cold eyes; he was fiery in his need to kill. The rugged man, on the other hand, was very fluid and moved with a swift coldness that conflicted with the man he presented himself to be, which unnerved Blaire. Despite the fact that the cold man was trying to take her, and potentially hurt her, Blaire surprisingly found it hard for her to decide who she wanted to win.

As she contemplated, a hand suddenly grabbed her foot and started pulling her from her frozen perch. She looked to see the hand belonged to a man wearing similar clothing as the cold man, which meant he wasn't pulling her to safety. She started kicking him with the foot he had in his grasp. It connected with his face and sufficiently bloodied his nose. He released her with a loud groan and she once again resumed climbing the mast, her pace hurried and frenzied.

Unfortunately, the mast had begun to crack from the damage that was done to it. Blaire continued, her gut telling her to keep going, despite the danger growing because of it. She climbed and she climbed until the mast finally snapped, and she fell with it. She held on as tight she could as the mast quickly came crashing down onto the ship, separating the fight between the cold man and the rugged man.

Blaire couldn't keep her grip as the mast impacted the ship, and she landed hard on a mass of bodies. She groaned in pain as she removed herself from the mass, covered in blood and guts and chips of wood. She stood tall, looking at the destruction around her, her breath coming in fast pants as she took everything in.

Up above her, the embers from the flames rose into the night sky, and Blaire found it utterly mesmerizing. She heard shouts in the distance, but she couldn't find it in herself to care as she looked at the carnage around her. She questioned the sight before her, finding it hard to believe that this was happening. But the strangest thing was that Blaire, despite everything that's happened, didn't feel scared. No, in fact, she felt somehow....alive. She couldn't explain why or how that was possible, but she had no time to ponder when the rugged man suddenly came into view, shaking her out of her reverie.

"Blaire!" he shouted as his eyes went wide as he came towards her. She felt herself move towards him in response, surprisingly happy that he was alive. She didn't understand the fear and sudden urgency in his expression. That was until she felt strong hands jerk her backward, and lift her into the air with such quickness she didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. 

She tried to use the dagger to attack her capturer, but it was useless. Her arms were pinned to her sides; her dagger was pulled roughly from her grasp, leaving a stinging cut that left her hand burning hot from the pain. He forced her against his firm chest, his cruel laughter sounded away in her ear.

"I'm going to have fun with you." His voice was just as cruel as his laugh, and it sent chills down her spine.

She tried to fight, to find a way out of his grasp, but it was useless. She was stuck; he had her in an unbreakable hold. She was helpless.

He turned and ran towards a plank behind them, made his way across the waves that threatened to send them both into the water. Just as they made it halfway on the plank, he turned once more, his laughter growing as his hold on her tightened. 

Blaire saw the rugged man standing at the edge of his ship. His eyes cold as he stared at the pair of them, his spear ready in his firm grasp. Blaire looked down, the waves roared beneath them, shooting upward towards Blaire, threatening to swallow her into the depths of the ocean. But Blaire realized, if the waves threaten to take her, it'll take him too.

She looked back to the rugged man, who hadn't moved from his spot.

"Come on you Dornish bastard! Make your choice! Will you let the King's daughter live with a Greyjoy, or die by the sea?" He laughed cruelly, his voice going low and gravelly as he shouted out his commands.

Amidst the sound of chaos all around them, Blaire could feel this eerie silence fall between them. Both men stared each other down, waiting to see who will break. Blaire, on the other hand, had other ideas. While he was distracted, she bit his hand hard, the taste of blood soon pouring into her mouth. He squealed in pain, and before she could move forward with her desperate and dangerous plan, she was struck on the back of her head. The last thing she saw before the blackness overtook her was the wooden plank racing towards her face, and the rugged man's yell sounding through the stormy air.


	2. Blaire Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Blaire arrives at Winterfell.

**_Chapter 2_ **

"I love you with all my heart, darling. You are so smart, so brave. I want nothing more than to hold you tight and never let you go, but I can't. You don't belong here, Blaire. For that, it's time for you to go, and be the fighter I know you're meant to be." Mother's words trickled through Blaire's mind, her soft voice contrasting with the anguish her words carried the last time Mother spoke to her.

"Someday you're going to be someone to fear, someone so strong and fierce that no man in this world will want to cross you. On that day, come back to me darling. Come back and be my daughter and show him that you are far greater than he will ever be. He brought about the end of a dynasty, but you will finish it and begin your own."

Blaire could feel her Mother's arms around her once more as the last of her words filtered through. "Promise me, Blaire. Promise me." The words repeated over and over in Blaire's head, growing louder and louder each time they were uttered. Louder and louder until the sound was deafening, Blaire felt herself falling through the blackness, her limbs flailing and breaths coming fast. Just as she was about to scream she felt a sharp pain in her cheek that was soon followed by a blinding light shining through the darkness.

Blaire opened her eyes to see a piercing light glaring deep into her eyes. She immediately shut them, bright spots puncturing the darkness. She opened them again, tilting her head up to ascertain where the light was coming from. She groaned when she saw the bright gleam traveled with her movement along the cold steel of her sword. Upon the realization that she was sleeping on the hilt, causing the pain on her right cheek, she pulled herself up to survey her environment.

She was deep in the Wolfswood, but not lost. She knew these woods better than the back of her hand. Blaire had all but lived in them since she found herself in the North. She took a deep breath, taking in the cold, musky air and smiling to herself before her ever-present frown returned. How strange it was to be dreaming of those long forgotten words belonging to a long forgotten woman that she couldn't picture, yet she remembered with perfect clarity what happened after she finally escaped that bloody ship, and the Cold Man for good.

It had been 10 years since Blaire was taken by the Cold Man. She never learned his name, never wanted too. What she did learn was what house he served, based on the Kraken sigil adorning his ship that she unwillingly woke up on all those years ago. She was forced to stay in the cabin during the entire trip, under constant guard and supervision. During her captivity, Blaire spent her unending time planning, waiting for the opportune moment to escape the Cold Man's clutches. It was a long time before they finally made port, and Blaire was ready to make her move. His warriors came to retrieve her from her cage and took her to the top deck, where the Cold Man was waiting with a cruel smile.

"Welcome to Pike, sweet one." Blaire wasn't fooled by his softened expression. When he stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder, she smacked it away and punched him in the groin. He bent over, wheezing slightly in surprised pain as Blaire reacted fast. She grabbed one of his daggers, turned around and sliced the oncoming attacker's hand before running down the ramp, her grip firm around the hilt as her feet pounded away on the muddy ground.

Shouts and screams sounded away behind her, and she soon hid in the mass of people on the docks, stealing a cloth hat from a boy in the huddle. She quickly put it on and raced to where she saw other clothes hanging from a line, keeping an eye out for the Cold Man and his warriors as she did.

She stole the clothes and disguised herself as another child from Pike, which worked incredibly well to her surprise.

For weeks she was able to hide from the Cold man and his men. She wasn't the only one hiding though. Jaeda, a beaten girl raised on Pike, helped Blaire hide, and survive. Blaire always suspected that Jaeda would want something in return for her help, and she was right. The only thing Jaeda ever wanted was to escape from Pike and to get as far from the sea and the ocean as possible. Blaire promised her she would help her escape, and on a cold, stormy night, she fulfilled it.

Ships sailed into Pike, ships that bared a number of different sigils and men dressed in different types of armor as they charged from the ships and onto the island. As they fought, Blaire and Jaeda stowed away on one of the ships and waited all night until the fighting was over, and the men boarded to sail home. It wasn't until they were a few days from the port when they were inevitably discovered hiding behind casks of wine.

The man who discovered them wasn't like the Cold Man or even the Rugged Man. When Blaire looked at him she somehow knew he was not a man she needed to fear. So when he knelt before her, waving off his men as he pulled out his giant sword and placed it behind him, she stepped towards him without fear.

"Who are you?" His voice was gruff, yet gentle. HIs hands were placed on his knees, patiently waiting for her reply.

"Blaire," she paused, hesitantly glancing towards the casks, "and this is my friend, Jaeda."

Jaeda carefully stepped out from her hiding place, eyeing the man and his men warily. The man in question flinched when Blaire revealed her name and his eyes grew in surprise, appraising the pair carefully.

"How did you get on this ship?"

Blaire explained her escape to him. She didn't miss the way he watched her, searching her face with wide eyes. When she finished her explanation he remained silent, studying her face with distinct scrutiny. He asked her a few more questions. Some were about herself, others about home, and a question about her family, which she answered harshly.

"I don't have one, not anymore. They didn't want me so they threw me away like I was nothing. Sent me away with a man that couldn't protect me," she hesitated, taking a deep breath before puffing out her chest and looking him directly in the eye. "It doesn't matter where I came from, what matters is that I'm here on your ship in order to keep a promise to someone who helped me survive. Now it seems you have a decision to make on what to do with us."

His mouth quirked, an unmistakable smile he was trying to hide. It only lasted for a second, but for the brief moment of time, it brightened his otherwise grim expression considerably. He didn't speak for a moment, studying Blaire's face once more as he pondered. He turned towards one of his men and spoke in a gruff voice.

"Have a bed prepared for each of them. No sense in turning back now when we've almost reached our destination."

"Yes, my lord." The man bowed to him before turning away.

"You're letting us stay?"

"Yes, Blaire, I am." He stood to his feet, his head gesturing towards the door where his men stepped aside. "We'll be landing at Deepwood Mott in a few days time and from there you and your friend can go wherever you please." He placed a hand on one of his men's shoulders. He too had a grim look about him, yet Blaire knew she shouldn't fear it.

"Blaire, this is Jory, he'll keep an eye on the pair of you until we reach our destination."

"Where will you be?" Blaire asked, stepping towards him curiously.

"I will be in the Captain's quarters, so not far. If you need anything you can find me there."

She nodded to him surely, and that quirk of a smile returned, this time lingering on his grim face as he turned to leave. Before he was out of sight, Blaire stopped him.

"Wait!" He turned to look at her curiously, "I didn't catch your name."

"Eddard Stark, call me Ned." With that, he left Blaire and Jaeda with Jory, who quickly showed the pair to their beds, and for the first time since she was taken, Blaire felt safe and slept soundly amongst the rocking ship.

When they reached Deepwood Mott, Blaire had become very close to Jory, Ned and the majority of his men. When one of his men was out of turn, Ned would set them right. Jory was nearly always by the girl's sides, and never let them out of his sight. Normally that made Blaire weary or annoyed, but for some reason, she found it comforting. So when they landed, and the two girls were deciding on where to go, Jory stopped them from wandering and led them to Ned.

"How would you girls like to return home with me?"

"Where's home?" Blaire asked curiously.

"It's in the North, just follow the Kingsroad and it'll lead you there."

"Why do you want us to come with?"

"I won't leave two girls alone in a strange place without someone to look after them. I know you both have come far, and believe you can take care of yourselves and each other but you are still children. You shouldn't have to fight and scratch and claw your way out of the gutter when someone can lend a hand and pull you out."

"We're not in the gutter; we're adventurers searching for a place of our own." Ned smiled at Blaire's comment, not just a quirk but a real smile. It blinded Blaire, and a surge of pride warmed her heart.

"You're right, you're not in the gutter, and if you girls are true adventurers searching for a place to call home, Winterfell seems like the perfect place to start. Don't you agree?"

Blaire and Jaeda looked too each other, and they smiled. When Blaire nodded to Ned, he laughed and led them to their horses.

Blaire remembered her first ride to Winterfell very well. Ned let her pick which horse she was to ride. Her eyes immediately fell to a russet horse with black sleeves. He was wild, untamed, hated men, and didn't belong there. To this day Blaire had no idea how she knew that or how she continues to know odd things about animals and people. All she knew was that despite the ruggedness, and the hatred deep in that horse's heart, she knew he was hers.

She walked confidently to him, and though several men tried to hold her back she pushed forward, her eyes never left him. The horse struggled against the man holding him captive, fighting him with every last breath in his body. Once she was within kicking range, he pulled himself free of the man's grasp. He reared back on his hind legs, coming down sharply with a belt of rage. The man dodged just in time as the horse's feet slammed sharply into the dirt.

Blaire placed a hand on his russet pelt and looked deep into his angry eyes. His head swung, black mane flying freely as he back away slightly. Not to evade her, but to get a better look at her. She smiled at him, gently petting him as she hummed softly, so softly that only he could hear her. His breaths started to slow as he listened, his eyes following her curiously as she began to move around him. Her hand trailed his smooth pelt as she smiled to Ned and Jaeda. Jaeda looked terrified, while Ned appeared worried. Their concern touched Blaire but it was all for naught. There was nothing to fear, not from him.

She walked around him, grabbing an apple from a basket as she did. Once she was in front of him once more she presented it to him, smiling gently. He opened his mouth and took the apple from her; a soft whinny emanated his favorable response. She gently petted his giant neck when she spoke to him.

"I know you don't like them, but if you let them place the saddle on you, I'll be your rider today." Her voice was gentle, her eyes never wavering from his.

He didn't respond until he finished his apple, and then he lightly bumped his nose against her forehead, another soft whinny emitting from him. Blaire remembered hugging him after that, and giving the man a quick nod as she stayed by his side, never leaving him as they finally strapped the saddle and appropriate equipment onto him. He didn't like it, but he didn't struggle this time. His eyes never left her, and she refused to stop petting him.

Once the men were done they quickly back away, a wise move on their part considering this steed was at the end of his patience with them. Blaire grabbed hold of the saddle and tried to hoist herself up. She was having trouble, but she refused to give up, and he waited almost eagerly. At her fifth try, she felt strong hands under her shoulders, lifting her up and onto the saddle. She turned to look at Ned, who was smiling at her failed attempts, and she laughed with him.

"I haven't been on a horse this big before," she told him, petting the horse's mane.

"I'd be surprised if you had considering he's the biggest of the lot," he shook his head at her, "do you always take on more than you can handle?"

"I like a challenge, it's no fun otherwise." She looked at her horse, "he's the same way, you know. He enjoys the fight."

"He's certainly seen his fair share of war. Hopefully, the pair of you will be spared from seeing more."

"Don't tell him that," Blaire laughed, and Ned's smile dimmed slightly.

It was a few minutes later Blaire was riding her wild steed alongside Ned and Jory, who had a very scared Jaeda clinging to his back with fear as they rode towards Winterfell. Blaire never felt more alive and safe than in that moment riding free amongst the deep green pastures.

Blaire smiled at the memory. Out of all the mistakes and bad decisions Blaire has made since she came to Winterfell, trusting Ned and coming here was not one of them. In fact, it was the best one she ever made. It was through this decision that she found a new family. A family that didn't vilify her for her interest in fighting, but encouraged it and helped train her to an extent, that didn't throw her away for being too wild and reckless with her decisions and defended her even when she was wrong. She found a true family, and for that, she was forever grateful to Ned Stark.

There was sharp whinny in the distance. Blaire snapped out of her reverie and grabbed her sword, her body moved instinctually into a defensive position. Her eyes surveyed the area, landing on her wild steed in the distance. She took another quick glance, coming to the conclusion that there was no danger, Casper was merely impatient.

Blaire rolled her eyes at her wild steed. She named him not long after their first ride, and it's stuck ever since. His hoof started pawing the ground as she quickly gathered her things and placed them in her pack. She stretched out her back, enjoying the brief popping sensation in her spine before walking the short distance to him.

"I know it might not seem like it but I'm just as eager to get home as you are," she winked at him. His response was a simple grunt and a brief bump of his nose to her forehead, something he's done since they first met. She quickly attached her pack to the saddle, then pulled out a bit of food and started humming. He accepted greatly, licking her hand clean for any crumbs. Once she was done she patted his neck, and then hoisted her body onto the saddle.

"Alright boy let's go home."

With another whinny, this time loud and boisterous, they exited their camping spot of deep green trees and brush, Casper's hooves pounded away through the mud and aimed north towards home.

It was not long before they reached the familiar scenery of the outskirts of Winterfell and encountered their first sign of trouble. A lone figure stumbled through the rough terrain of the Northern pasture, his feet catching the thick grass and nearly falling into holes in the ground. He showed no signs of stopping, his movements desperate and hurried. Blaire cocked her head, appraising the figure carefully. Both were out in the open, she knew he could see her as plainly as she could see him, but he refused to stop. She realized something was wrong, something terrible. She urged Casper to go towards him, her eyes never leaving this desperate form.

He continued his pursuit forward, even when Casper trotted alongside him, his hooves thundering against the thick earth. The figure was a scrawny man dressed in black, meaning two things. One, he was a man of the Night's Watch that was convened to the Wall and all beyond it. Two, he was a deserter and on the run. She released the reigns, pulled both legs free, placed them into position and jumped. She landed roughly on the deserter, and expertly pinned him to the ground. His breath came in fast pants, crying slightly as Blaire flipped him over and placed a dagger to his throat.

"What's man form the Night's Watch doing all this way south of the Wall?" Her voice was crude and cutting as assessed him more carefully. What she saw beneath her caused the severity within her to lessen slightly. He was terrified. He saw something terrible, something that shook his truly to the core. Blue eyes flashed in her mind, but not like everyone else. These eyes were blue like sapphires and just as dead and cold inside.

"I saw them," he spoke suddenly, forcing the blue eyes out of her mind and focusing on his own.

"Saw what?"

"The White Walkers," his shaking voice suddenly grew, his head rising despite the dagger held to his throat. "I saw the White Walkers!"

"White Walkers?" Blaire forced him back down with her free hand, "what do you mean?"

"The White Walkers, I saw them!" He was shouting now, beginning to struggle against her. He was too weak due to his exhaustion and thin stature. He could not overpower Blaire as she wrestled him to the ground and held him there with a firm grasp.

"You already said that," she grated, "what are they?"

"I saw them!" He repeated, fiercely. Every question she tried to ask him he would answer with the same reply. Her interrogation didn't last long. Soon enough she heard the thundering sound of hooves heading towards them. She half expected Casper to charge them down, angry at her little detour, when the sound grew closer she realized that the sound was too great to belong to Casper alone. 

She looked up from the deserter to see a band horses with men holding Stark banners coming towards them. She sighed in relief when she saw Jory, older and grimmer now after ten long years of watching over her, dismounted his horse and walked towards.

"Blaire, we weren't expecting you for another week." He waved some of the men forward. She released the deserter once they got a good grip on his black coat. He went willingly enough, but his frightened eyes never strayed from Blaire as she stood to face Jory.

"What can I say; we don't like to stay still for too long. He practically dragged me from my patch of dirt this morning."

"It's good to see you; Lady Arya hasn't stopped talking about you since we received word from Lady Mormont. How was your training?"

"Blissful," Blaire laughed, placing her dagger into her boot, "how's Winterfell faired in my absence."

"Never before has it seen more peace," he smirked.

Blaire rolled her eyes, "I apologize in advance for the chaos that is sure to come with my presence."

"Come now, let's return and give Lord Stark our report."

With that, Jory and Blaire left the men to deal with the deserter and road back to Winterfell. It didn't take long. In almost no time at all Blaire could see Winterfell's stoic castle in the distance, and her heart soared with joy. It had been a few months since Blaire left to train with Lady Mormont. She was stern in her training, and while Blaire sincerely appreciated her tactics and moral code, she failed to see the point in the lessen the proud Lady was trying to teach her. Honor always seemed like an abstract concept to Blaire. She knew what it meant to be honorable thanks to Lord Stark, but she could never find it in herself to be honorable. She realized this when fighting Lady Mormont herself during the end of her stay at Bear Island. The two had fought for a long time, both women refusing to break until Blaire saw an opportunity and took it.

The proud Lady's knee faltered slightly, and Blaire used it to her advantage by advancing aggressively, forcing her to put more weight on it. Blaire feigned right, grabbed the blunted tip of her practice sword, and swung with a brutal force. The handle hit the Lady's knee harshly, her body quickly faltering when Blaire made the final blow. A firm kick to the middle of her chest sent the Lady backward, falling to the ground in a gasping heap. Blaire quickly pressed her foot on the Lady's hand when she reached out to grab her fallen sword.

"Do you yield?" She remembered asking, pressing the blunted tip into the ground next to the Lady's face.

That action earned a glare from the Lady, "you have no honor in you."

"Maybe," she responded after a moment, considering the comment, "but I still won."

With that Blaire pulled away from Lady Mormont and helped her to her feet. She dusted the dirt off of her clothes before placing a firm hand on Blaire's shoulder.

"You have a practical mind, Blaire. It's a good quality to have when you travel alone. It's what you need to survive, but not to live."

"What do you mean?"

"What's does it mean to survive?" Lady Mormont asked instead of answering, and Blaire didn't hesitate to answer.

"Defeating your opponent."

"What else?" the Lady prompted, and Blaire thought on it.

"Gathering food for long trips, having supplies on hand in case Casper is injured or I need to sharpen my weapons or I need to start a fire to keep warm at night."

"More or less," she hesitated, looking to Blaire, "with all those things considered, what does it mean to survive?"

"Keeping yourself alive?" She answered in a confused tone, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"Yes, survival deals with the maintenance of the body. To keep it moving, breathing, and working as it should. Now, if survival focuses on keeping the body alive, what does living focus on?"

"Keeping the mind alive?"

"Yes and no, survival deals with physicality while living deals with morality, the heart and the mind to be more precise."

"I'm not sure what you mean by that?"

"Living focuses on the emotions you feel, particularly ones attached to those you feel strongly for. Let’s use the Starks as an example. You think of them as your family, do you not?"

"Of course I do, I don't know what I'd do without them." Blaire paused for a moment, realizing what Lady Mormont was talking about. "Would that also include my love of fighting?"

"Blaire, your propensity for fighting is not enough. Living is something that fills you to the core of your being, fills you with joy, pain, and motivates you in ways that little else can. Is there anything that makes you feel in such a way?"

Blaire shrugged, not answering.

"That's your final challenge, young one. The only lesson you've yet to learn and understand. Find what it means to live, and you will become a force to be reckoned with."

Blaire was still confused by their conversation, yet the sight of Winterfell drawing nearer shed cleared her mind a bit. There was no place in this world she would rather be than here, the only place she would ever dare to call home. The grim stonework of the walls felt welcoming as she rode through the entrance with Jory by her side. Casper whinnied, rearing on his back legs enthusiastically. Blaire smiled at his reaction, particularly at the terrified faces from those surrounding them. They all thought Casper was a monstrous beast that should never have been allowed into these sacred walls, but Lord Stark knew better and wouldn't hear a word against him.

She took him to the stables towards the water pale and he lapped it up eagerly.

"There you go boy, drink up." She grabbed the last of the food from the pack and set it next to the watering trough. She gave him one last pat on his dark mane as Jory placed a hand on her shoulder.

He led her away from Casper and through the mass of people gathered in the courtyard. They stared at Blaire curiously, nervously. It wasn't new. Blaire has been on the receiving end of those looks since she first arrived at Winterfell. Blaire used to think it was because of her strange eyes before eventually coming to realize it wasn't her physical abnormality, but simply her disposition. She wasn't like everyone else, and a fair amount of them have been brave or stupid enough to point that out to her. She didn't need them to remind her, she's always been different. From what little she remembered of her time in those golden halls she was always different from those around her. Even from Father.

His black, bushy beard smelling of wine with crumbs falling whenever he spoke. His loud, boisterous voice when he laughed his booming laugh. The way he swung the hammer before letting her hold it. His scream when she stabbed him with the knife and his rage when he sent her away. There was little else she remembered about him, only that he was a wealthy man. It was the only way she could explain the golden halls. They were very extravagant, too extravagant for a man like him. She suspected it was Mother's doing, she seemed the type for such an excessive lifestyle. Blaire didn't see the purpose behind it. She favored a simpler life where all she had was all she needed. It was easier that way.

The sound of laughter broke through Blaire's thoughts. She turned her head to see Ned Stark's sons practicing Archery, and the sight made her grin.

Robb, the oldest, was trying not to laugh as Bran, the second youngest, attempted to hit the target once more. It was a terrible miss, hence the laughter from Jon, who failed miserably at trying to hide his amusement from his brother. A firm voice broke through the laughter and stunned the boys into silence.

"And which one of you was a marksman at 10?"

Both Jon and Robb remained silent, all traces of laughter gone from their faces. Bran, on the other hand, grumbled, "Blaire was."

Blaire grinned, and when Lord Stark continued her chest filled with pride.

"Blaire practiced every night when she thought everyone was asleep. Keep practicing and one day you'll be as good as her."

Bran took a deep breath, knocked his arrow and aimed once more for the target, pulling on the string as hard as he could. His shoulders were too tight, and his arm placement was wrong. Blaire wanted to correct him but decided against it. He needed to learn on his own, just as she did.

Suddenly there was a whooshing sound through the air, then the sharp sound of an arrow impacting the center of the target. It wasn't Bran's, his arrow was still knocked. She looked to see a very smug Arya a fair distance behind Bran. She grinned when the girl did a little curtsy and laughed when Bran dropped his bow and chased after her.

Blaire found herself discreetly walking towards Jon as he turned to pick up Bran's forgotten bow and arrow. His back was turned towards her as he placed the bows and arrows back in their quiver. She planned on sneaking up on him, scaring him. Her way of having a little fun with him when she suddenly saw him look up. Staring from the balcony above was Catelyn Stark, the Lady of the House, looking down at him as if he were a rat. Lady Stark didn't seem to notice Blaire which was good because the look Blaire was giving her in return would not have gone over well.

Often times she thought Lady Stark was a good, even generous woman that would die for her family. When Blaire arrived in Winterfell with Lord Stark 10 years ago she welcomed her with open arms. She treated Blaire with a firm sort of kindness the way a Mother would her child when they were doing something wrong. She made Blaire feel like she was a Stark at all times. She did not, however, extend that kindness to Jon, who truly was a Stark that bared a different name. Snow. It meant he was a bastard of the North. He was Lord Stark's son, not hers, and therefore she treated him like filth. It was strange considering Blaire’s bastard moniker. Her name was Storm, a bastard from the Stormlands.

“She’ll never change, will she?” Blaire found herself murmuring, and Jon jerked towards her in shock.

The smile on her face paled in comparison to Jon’s rare look of pure joy. “Blaire!” he shouted, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her tight. Their chests shook with laughter as they embraced, spinning her round in circle as she held onto him tight, and her face nestled into the crook of his neck.

For this brief moment, nothing else existed but the two. Only Jon and Blaire, two strange people that didn’t belong anywhere, were not wanted anywhere, yet lived and existed in spite of others desires. The only thing that mattered was the catch of the wind in Jon’s curls, the bite of the cold wind on the back of Blaire’s neck, and their warm embrace when Jon finally set her on her feet. The look he gave her when he pulled back was not the brooding Jon everyone knew, but the happy, almost carefree Jon that she remembered with perfect clarity. Her smile broadened at the sight of him, and her heart swelled.

“Either Bran is hopeless, or you are a terrible teacher.” Blaire found herself mocking.

“He just needs more practice, and patience,” he responded in his gruff, yet dulcet tone, “much like someone else learning how to shoot an arrow.”

“I, at least, was motivated to learn,” she laughed, moving around him to pick up the last of Bran’s forgotten arrows, “his head is up in the clouds. Is he still climbing the castles, reaching the highest of them all in hopes he’ll actually touch one?”

“Of course, Bran’s not one to be stopped when he has a goal in mind.”

“Similar to most of his siblings, if I recall?”

He laughed again as Blaire shoved the arrow into its quiver, “when did you find the time to teach Arya?”

“I didn’t actually teach her, just some notes, a bit of advice…” Blaire didn’t elaborate, only smiled.

“Whatever you did, it worked.” Jon was able to say before another shout in the distance interrupted them.

The pair turned to see Robb walking towards them and Blaire once again found herself grinning. Robb’s handsome face shined as he pulled Blaire into his arms, holding her tightly.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, what brought you back?” Robb asked as he pulled away slightly, his hands remaining on her shoulders.

“I finished my training early, and Casper was not in the mood for aimless traveling this time.”

The brothers laughed, and Robb leaned in to hug Blaire once more. She noticed both of them got taller, and they seemed stronger too. Robb was letting his red curls grow out now, though they were not near the length of Jon’s shining black ones. He was still taller than Jon, more statuesque in his build while Jon was slightly smaller, more limber than his elder brother. Robb’s face was starting to lose that boyish quality while Jon retained his. Still, the Stark brothers were very handsome men, and only one of them was keenly aware of that.

Most girls would be ashamed to stand in front of them looking the way Blaire did now. Covered in earth and smelling of shit, her dark hair shorter and more unkempt than Jon’s, wearing leathers designed for men to wear underneath thick metal armor before they ride off to battle, patches sewn into the fabric from ripping it during her training sessions and hitting the branches on the trees from riding too quickly through the forest. Let’s not forget the condition of her shoes, which were falling apart in the most dreadful of ways. She didn’t care though; she was rarely concerned with how she looked. When she did, it was only to ensure that she looked clean for Lord Stark’s feasts.

“Hopefully he was not the only one to miss home?” Robb added slyly as he pulled away once more when Jory suddenly arrived, interrupting their union.

“Time to go lads. A deserter from the wall has been captured and is waiting to be executed, Lord Stark has asked for you to attend.”

All semblances of joy and amusement vanished from the brothers eyes at Jory’s stern voice. They nodded in unison at his message when he aimed his next message towards Blaire.

“You are to stay here-”

“Why?” Blaire interrupted, and Jon gave her a look of caution.

“You’ve had a long journey home, and Lord Stark wishes for you to take this time to rest and get cleaned up. He would also like to have a word with you before we go”

“Where is Lord Stark?”

“I’ll take you to him,” he stepped back, nodding slightly to the brothers.

She smiled at the pair, and bowed her head slightly, “My lords,” she spoke mockingly with a shrewd expression, and their smiles briefly returned as she departed.

Lord Stark was waiting for her near the entrance of the camp as his horse was brought out to him. He wore the same grim look as he had since she met him all those years ago, which brightened considerably at the sight of her. He opened his arms to her, and rare smile dawning on his face as he walked towards.

“Welcome home, Blaire.” His gruff voice warmed her heart as he pulled her in for quick, firm hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to be back,” she responded, stepping from his embrace with a smile.

“I trust Lady Mormont trained you well?”

“She taught me a many great things, some of which I’m still pondering.”

“Pondering?”

“One of her lessons has me confused. I’m not entirely sure what she intends for me to learn.”

He looked taken aback, “The wild and onerous Blaire Storm confused? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I don’t see why her lesson matters in the grand scheme of things. Why does it matter to live if living kills you?”

“What is the lesson?” Lord Stark asked as Toby, one of the stable boys, brought round Lord Stark’s horse.

“What it truly means to live,” Blaire grumbled, as he gathered his things and helped ready the saddle.

“What do you believe it to be?” He asked, looking at her expectantly.

“Seeing tomorrow,” she answered bluntly, shrugging.

The look he gave her was similar to the way Lady Mormont did; slightly perplexed and disappointed, but mostly thoughtful.

“The lessons that confound us are the ones we need to learn the most,” he said as he turned towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to go get cleaned up, and then check in on Jaeda. She’s missed you terribly these last few weeks.”

“Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, she just needs some company. Despite our efforts she has not fared well here in your absence.”

Blaire sighed, “I told her to come with me, but she didn’t want to go this time.”

“Afraid you might whisk her away to the wall?” He gave her a look, and she shrugged. “I told you to stay away from there, that’s not a place for a woman.”

“No, you said that was not a place for a Lady. I’m not a Lady; therefore, I can go to the wall.”

“Now is not the time to twist my words,” he grated when shouts sounded in the distance, and more of Lord Stark’s men arrived upon their horses.

“We’ll talk later Blaire,” he heaved himself up and swung his leg over the saddle, “get cleaned up and go see Jaeda. She needs you.”

“Yes sir,” she conceded, stepping away as she bowed her head slightly.

She heard him sigh, “Be sure to see Arya when you get the chance, she wants to thank you for her archery lessons.”

Laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it, and his rare smile emerged as he, kicked his heels into his horse’s side, and off he went with all of his men trailing behind him, young Theon Greyjoy among them, who winked at her as he strode passed her. Robb and Jon followed soon after with Bran in tow, his face tense. Robb waved to her as they road by, Jon sent her a quick smile, and both glanced back at her as they road through the entrance. 

She shook her head as they departed, smiling at their behavior before turning on her heel and heading towards Jaeda’s home.

She found her out front washing her clothes with tense concentration. Her red hair was pulled back in the traditional northern braid, her plan face scrunched together as her hooded grey eyes glanced nervously at her surroundings. Her slight form hunched over the pale as she cleaned with all her might. Blaire was confused at her dear friend’s behavior until she saw a short, fat man stumble over to her, yelling at her.

“You don’t belong here salt girl! You’re nothing but a piece of shit hanging onto the good Lord’s boots! Why don’t you do yourself a favor, and fuck off!” He shoved himself forward, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to her feet. Shoving his nasty face into hers, he continued, “but if you won’t I’ll do it for you!” He started grabbing at her clothes as he shoved her into the wall.

She had just started screaming for help when Blaire came forward. Pulling her dagger from her boot she reached forward with her free hand and grabbed the slimy, filthy hair on the man’s head and yanked it back. She placed his dagger at the base of his throat and pressed down, hard.

“Let her go, or I will slit your fucking throat.” Blaire growled in the man’s ear, fighting the urge to end his life as unreputable rage flowed through her body.

His eyes popped open like a fish, and his breathing became impossibly fast. He lifted his hands away from Jaeda, who immediately scurried away from him with a hand to her throat. Blaire dragged him away from her before throwing him to the muddy ground. He yelped when he landed, panting and covered in filth as he attempted to stand to his feet. Blaire responded by kicking him in the face, knocking him to the mud once more. He started crawling, whimpering like the coward he was.

“What? Don’t like girls that fight back?” Blaire taunted as she followed him, kicking him in the side with all her might.

He screamed in pain, falling once more into the muck. This time he didn’t get up, just laid there like an animal carcass waiting to be skinned and eaten. He looked up with terrified eyes, his lips trembling in fear.

“Maybe you’re the one who should leave; cowards and rapers don’t survive very long in the North.” She growled as she flipped the dagger around in her hand, watching the tears well up in his eyes.

“Please,” he whimpered pathetically, “mercy! Mercy please!”

“Should have thought of that before you tried to rape my friend-” Blaire threatened when a small hand grabbed her wrist.

She turned to see Jaeda. Her eyes were red from tears, but her mouth was set.

“Don’t,” she said in a firm tone, “he’s not worth effort.”

“He has to pay,” she responded in a growl.

“And so he has,” she glanced around the area, and Blaire followed her line of sight.

The people of Winterfell people were watching with keen interest. Some looked like vultures watching with glee, others with worry shadowing their pale faces. Only one showed vast disappointment, and that face belonged to Maester Luwin. He stood at the edge of the growing crowd, hands clasped in front of him as he watched the scene intensely. 

Blaire sighed in defeat, knowing she couldn’t gut the coward like she wanted, not with a crowd watching. She sheathed her dagger back in her boot, and took a step towards him. He tried to scoot away, but she grabbed the man’s beard and pulled him close.

“Touch my friend again, and no one will be able to save you, not even the Honorable Lord Stark. Understand?”

He nodded eagerly, and she released him, sending him back into his muddy pile to leave him sobbing in his own filth. Jaeda pulled on Blaire’s hand and led them inside her home. She barely had time to collect herself when Jaeda rounded on her like the fiery person only Blaire knew she could be.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“He was going to rape you!”

“You can’t do stuff like that, you know better!”

“What did you think I was going to do? Sit down and knit?”

“No, but anything would have been better than trying to kill him in front of everyone!”

“I don’t care what they see-”

“But you should care, Blaire! What you do doesn’t only concern you and me, but the Starks as well! They took you in and raised you as their own, what you do reflects on them! Would Ned have done something that incredibly stupid?”

“If some weak, coward of man was trying to rape one of his daughters, then yes I think he would have reacted the same way! Same with Jon and Robb, and maybe even Bran too!”

“You can’t be this reckless, Blaire. The Starks might care for us but that’s it. We are not welcome here in Winterfell; it’s been that way since we arrived. The Northerners don’t accept us-”

“Fuck what they do or don’t accept, when a man forces himself on a woman, whether stranger, friend, family, or enemy; it’s everyone’s right and duty to stop him-”

“Yes, to stop him, not to kill him!”

“What better way to stop a raper then killing him altogether?”

“You are not the judge of that!”

“I made the sentence, I will carry out.”

“You are not the Lord, Blaire. You don’t rule here. It’s Ned’s decision, not yours.” Jaeda took a breath, wiping at her face with shaking hands, “We’re not out in the woods, Blaire. You can’t just solve everything with your dagger.”

“I don’t solve everything with my dagger,” Blaire growled, crossing her arms and glaring at her friend.

“You could have fooled me,” Jaeda grumbled, taking a deep breath to calm herself, “Ned will take care of this; I’m surprised he wasn’t out there.”

“He and the Starks just left to execute a deserter from the wall,” Blaire answered, earning a confused look from Jaeda. “I found him wandering on my journey back; Jory and his men arrived shortly after. I saw Ned off before I came over to see you.”

“Didn’t have time to clean up first?” Jaeda glared at the state of her and Blair laughed, arms falling to her sides.

“Sorry, I forgot,” she joked, and Jaeda rolled her eyes in response.

Where Blaire didn’t care if she was covered in all manner of shit, Jaeda fussed over the slightest crumb on one’s shirt. She’s always been that way, ever since they met. Blaire always found it amusing while Jaeda hated her for it.

“You can’t always be so reckless, Blaire. A time will come when you’ll act the fool and no one will be there to protect you.”

“I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

“You will when it’s you against an army.”

Blaire laughed, “What a lovely end. An entire army amassed to bring down a bastard girl.”

“Something is very wrong with you,” she grumbled.

“Blaire shrugged in response, “and you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

Jaeda shook her head, “Promise me you’ll stop being so reckless. If not for me than for Lord Stark’s sake.”

“I can’t promise you that, it’s who I am. Blaire Storm, the wild and reckless bastard who cannot be tamed.”

“Quite a reputation you built. I hope you like it because it’ll be the thing that gets you killed.”

Blaire rolled her eyes, “I’ll try to think things through Jaeda. I can’t promise I’ll succeed, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” she gritted out, “now go get washed up while I clean up all the muck you tracked in.”

Blaire laughed a real one this time, and nodded.


	3. Wild One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprising friendship is revealed.

**_Chapter 3_ **

It’s been a few days since the incident, and apart from a stern lecture that was witnessed by a very amused Robb, Blaire was not punished for her actions, and the coward has been sentenced to the Wall for his attempt. It wasn’t what Blaire wanted, she would have preferred his head on a spike for what he tried to do, but it was enough to make her relent and finally leave the matter alone. It didn’t stop her from a victory drink with Jaeda, who was not amused but drank anyway. 

Being back in Winterfell was both exciting and challenging. Exciting because she got to be with the Starks again. She helped Bran with his archery during the day, and taught Arya a thing or two about sword fighting at night. She showed off her newfound skills to Robb and Jon when they practiced, thoroughly embarrassing them as Bran watched from the top of the turrets. More than once she caught Arya playing little jokes on Sansa, and helped by distracting her sister to make a clean getaway, making surprisingly civil conversation with the lass before sneaking off to avoid her wrath. She played with little Rickon, and with all the new direwolf pups that were rescued after the execution. 

She felt particularly close to Greywind, who would often follow her with his tongue hanging out when he wasn’t with Robb, adoration filling his eyes to the brim. Nymeria would often sneak up on her, and lap her hand before running off to find Arya. Lady was just like Sansa, all prim and proper and often unamused by Blaire and Ayra’s antics. Shaggydog was just as wild and untamed as the little baby Rickon was. Bran’s wolf didn’t have a name yet, and was just as mysterious as Ghost, who was often off in his own world, yet rarely strayed from Jon. When he did, it was not for long. He had an interesting way of showing his affection, merely bumping his nose against the hand before wandering away. Apart from Jon, he’s only done that with Blaire so far, and she felt honored to have earned his affection. 

Apart from Lady, all the direwolf pups were fond of Blaire, and she shared their affection. More than once Blaire would wake from a deep sleep to find one or more of them cuddling up next to her on the bed, which she found strange and comforting. Strange because though she was very fond of them, they were not hers to care for, and they knew that. Comforting because everytime she found one at her side was when she woke from another nightmare. 

The man from the Nights Watch has taken residence in her dreams, and try as she might she couldn’t seem to escape him, or his words. 

“I saw them!” He would shout, the terrified tones bounding through her ears as she walked through this snowy, ice world where she could barely see, weapons at the ready and eyes sharp despite the storm keeping her at bay. His words would repeat over and over again, getting louder in their rush until Blaire struggled to focus on the task at hand. She was searching for something. What she was searching for she didn’t know. The only thoughts that raced through her mind were the same, “Find him, I need to find him.” 

At the end of the dream she would come across a shadowy figure who looked unaffected by the storm. The figure stood there, watching her struggle as she straightened her body and gripped her sword tighter, fully ready to use it. She would step forward, about to lunge when the figure opened its eyes, and suddenly the darkness disappeared as the shocking blue appeared. It was white like the snow, bones protruding where its skin once was. Ratted clothes hung flimsily off its bones, and through the roar of the storm and the pounding of those repeating words she heard its bones click as it approached her. 

Just as it opened what used to be its mouth the storm would suddenly went silent, and the words of the Nights Watchman would change to “White Walkers!” and it let out a terrible scream as it charged her. The feel of her sword swinging towards the creature stung her hands every time she’d awaken from the dream, but the most haunting part was her final thoughts before she returned to the world. 

“Find him,” she would think as she sprung out of bed, one hand gripping the dagger under her pillow while the other reached out for anything to steady her.  _ Who is he _ she would think to herself, constantly wondering who  _ he  _ would be. 

The consistent dreams were only part of the challenging aspects upon her return, the majority being the residents of Winterfell who have never been particularly fond of Blaire and Jaeda. The cowardly raper was not the only one to call Jaeda “salt girl”. In fact, most of the people only knew Jaeda as “salt girl” which drove Blaire mad on more than one occasion. Jaeda on the other hand wears her moniker with grace. Not exactly proud but she doesn’t shy away from it either. She sees it as her one victory in life. She escaped the Iron Islands and now resides safely in the North. She might not belong, but she’s away from severe danger, “staying alive is better than staying a maiden” she would always say to Blaire which would make her anger simmer. 

Blair’s monikers from the gracious people of Winterfell were numerous, ranging from wild bastard to reckless traitor, but the one that stuck most of all was “Black Stag” which they would often whisper behind her back. She was always confused by the moniker, but paid it little mind for the most part until Robb would jokingly call to her “Ah! The Black Stag approaches! Bow down before her lest you want to keep your head.” She would smack him for the remark, but laugh all the same. 

The Stark’s made it worth the struggle, and Blaire found herself thanking the Gods for having them in her life. She found herself doing that quite a lot since her return. Winterfell’s subjects have grown particularly distasteful and even hostile towards Blaire , not that she minded much. She was always ready for a fight. With hostility comes violence, and Blaire relished any challenge. 

It was after a particularly brutal fight the previous night, and the same harrowing nightmare, Blair woke to Greywind licking the blood off her face, Shaggydog curled up against her chest, and Ghost staring at her curiously, yet worriedly as she pushed up to a sitting position and popped her back blissfully. She scratched Greywind behind his ears before standing to her feet, stumbling slightly as she struggled to gain her balance. She rolled her shoulder gingerly as as she walked over to the water pale. 

She washed her face and hands as the wolves watched interestedly. Greywind sat on her feet, smiling at her with his tongue hanging out. She smiled at him, leaning down to give him a kiss before walking off to get dressed. She was almost done when there was a knock on her door, and Robb’s voice came through.

“Blaire?”

“Yes?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course, Greywind’s waiting for you.”

The door opened with a loud creak and the quick scuffling of paws sounded before Robb let out an “oof!”. Amanda turned to see Greywind climbing into Robb’s arms. He laughed as his wolf panted enthusiastically in his arms, his eyes filled with adoration as he struggled to choose who he wanted to stare at more, either Robb or Blaire.

“I thought I might find you here,” he briefly scratch Greywind behind the ears, “I see you’ve gained another admirer.” He gestured to Shaggydog as he set Greywind on the bed. The black wolf was now curled up on Blair’s pillow, staring at her mournfully. 

“He likes the heat, Rickon doesn’t give off enough to warm himself at night, so he sneaks in here with the rest. Found him on me chest this morning dozing away like the pup he is.” She scratched him behind his ears as she leaned over to grab her dagger from under the end of her bed. The same silver dagger from all those years ago from the rugged man, and the cold Greyjoy man. It didn’t hold the same shine as it once did, but Blaire kept it just as sharp, and lethal. 

She twirled it around with her fingers before shoving it into her boot. “So what brings you here, my lord? I suspect it’s more than a friendly quest to find where all the direwolves have been spending their nights?”

His smiled dimmed slightly, “a Raven came today.”

“From where?”

“The Dreadfort, from Lord Bolton’s bastard son.” He handed her the opened note with narrow eyes. 

She looked at the note before roughly taking it from him, “you know it’s rude to read other people’s letters. I thought Lord Stark would have taught you better.” She folded the letter and placed it in the hem of her pants before grabbing her sword leaning against the bed and roughly pushing past Robb, taking her bow and arrows on the way. The heavy thud of his shoes were overshadowed by the scuffling of paws as they followed her down the dark hall of the castle. 

“Why is Ramsay Snow writing you letters? How do you even know him?”

“We met after I first came here, remember? When you thought I ran off to join the Night’s Watch after old nan told us stories about the Long Night and the Ice Dragon, I really went east to start exploring with Jaeda.” She took a left turn, quickly descending the stairs without looking at him. She knew he would follow her. “We waded through the white knife and ventured eastward until we reached Hornwood. After restocking we headed North, hoping to travel through the Lonely Hills when we came across the Dreadfort. Like with Hornwood we didn’t intend to stay for long. We were just gathering our things when we saw Domeric Bolton riding his wretched horse dragging a naked, beaten servant girl through the mud with a smile on his face.”

She took a breath, turning to look at him as she reached the bottom floor, whispering, “I didn’t think, I just reacted the way I always have. It was a good thing I wasn’t up to par with my bow yet, or else I doubt I would have made it back to Winterfell alive. Still my arrow grazed his shoulder, causing him to fall from his horse. I didn’t know it was Lord Bolton’s son until people started rushing to his aid and calling for the Maester.”

“Seven Hells, Blaire.” His eyes went wide, arms crossing as he stepped towards her.

“I ran into the forest while Jaeda hid amongst the other travelers. It wasn’t long before someone found me, or really I found him. Long story short he protected me from his father’s soldiers and brothers wrath. It helped that no one saw me shoot the arrow.”

“Why did he do that? That was his brother.”

“Ramsay hates his brother. Domeric is the true born son while Ramsay is the bastard, and Domeric never hesitated to remind him of that. He’s very entitled, and just as cold and manipulative as his father. Having someone shoot his brother and knock him off his horse made him the happiest man to ever live at the Dreadfort. In return he not only shielded my crime, but helped me improve my archery as well. Since then we’ve kept in contact. He’s proven to be a good friend.”

“Bastard or not he’s still a Bolton, Blaire. You can’t let him fool you because of one decent act, and kind, admirous words.” He gestured to where Blaire placed her letter.

“His words are not admirous, and I haven’t forgotten whose House he belongs to. I know that while he might not be as attuned to his father as Domeric is, he inherited that same cold, unfeeling nature from him. I know when I need to be on my guard, Robb, now stop treating me like a child and move on. We have a long day ahead of us.” 

Blaire turned away from Robb once more, all but running out the entrance and into the courtyard where Rickon was jumping in the puddles with glee. After a few small greetings and meager conversations, Blaire arrived at her post along the highest wall overlooking Wintertown and beautiful lush green landscape touching the grey sky. She leaned the bow against the stone wall, and hung the bag of arrows on the nearest nail before grabbing the letter. She turned to press her back against the stones before roughly sliding down to sit on the ground, unfolding the letter as she did. 

_**Blaire. Father has received word from King’s Landing. A great tragedy has struck the royal court. I fear it will affect you and the Stark family in due time. Be prepared for the changes you are about to face. It will not be what you expect. Stay strong, stay fierce, and as always stay beautiful wild one. It’s been too long since you have graced me with your presence. I am most eager to see you again, if you will permit me. You’re loyal friend, Ramsay** _

She bit the inside of her cheek as she read and reread his letter, studying the harsh strokes of his writing. What changes were coming? What could he mean? Why was his father privy to information from the South, King’s Landing and the royal family no less. Blaire was unsure of what to make of Ramsay’s letter, or understand why Robb decided now of all times to confiscate and read it. It appeared that changes were already happening at Winterfell, and she was not prepared for it in the slightest.

As she stood watch along the edge of the castle, she thought back to the day she met Ramsay Bolton. The story she told Robb was true enough, she shot his brother and he protected her because he hated him, and he helped her improve her archery. What really happened was a bit more complicated.

The truth was Blaire did indeed intend to go to the Wall but as inexperienced as she was she and Jaeda lost their way multiple times before arriving at Hornwood. They restock their supplies, asked someone to point the way, and off they went again. They were lost again and came across the Dreadfort, where the tale truly begins. 

Blaire knew looking at the castle that it was not a safe place to be. Jaeda opted to walk in with the other weary travelers they happened across on their journey while Blaire snuck inside another way. There was a crack in the wall that she slid through, her hand always on her dagger should trouble arise, and stayed hidden as she ventured through the castle grounds. Winterfell was an absolute beacon of light and hope compared to the Dreadfort, which looked and felt like one of the seven hells the Septons continuously warned people about. 

It was when she saw Jeada successfully make it through the entrance with a tight, steady expression that failed to conceal her shaking hands that Domeric Bolton road in front of her with the screaming servant girl dragging behind him. His pompous, cold, yet oddly handsome face glowed as the girl screamed in terror behind him. His cold, cruel eyes stared down at the subjects with disgusting smirk as he abruptly turned his dark horse around and happily trampled her. 

Blaire stared in shock and fury at the scene before her, not realizing that she was moving until she roughly pulled free her bow, knocked her arrow, and aimed at his disgusting smirk. Before she released the arrow their eyes met, and all she saw in those dar depths was sadistic pleasure. She released the arrow with positive glee, aching the see it cave in his eyes, but missed and hit his shoulder instead. The impact knocked him off his horse and sent him to the ground, his scream heard amongst the courtyard. In a matter of seconds Blaire realized what she had done, where she was, and how this was going to go should she get caught. She was running from the courtyard before Domeric hit the ground. 

She remembered people’s voices calling after her as she escaped the castle and hid amongst the trees. The thick green leaves smacking her face in her retreat, her chest stinging with pain as she fought to control her breathing as she continued onwards. It was not long before someone found her, before he found her. 

She had been standing still in an open area, searching through the trees for any routes of escape while listening for any followers from the castle when the sound of an arrow came whooshing towards her. She turned at the last second, the sharp edge of the arrow missing her cheek by a hair, piercing the tree behind her. She ducked immediately, jumping for cover behind the nearest bush as she readied her bow and arrows. She forced her lungs to take deep, calming breaths as she surveyed the area once more, this time looking for her attacker. 

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that.” A high pitched voice sounded through the trees, a chill ran down her spine as she searched frantically through the trees. Her heart pounded in her ears as panic started to consume her. She took another deep breath, pushing away the dark thoughts of how this was it, one simple adventure to the wall ended in a fatal mistake in the woods. In the midst of her fear, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret her decision to shoot that lordly scum off his horse. He deserved it, and if the price of her actions ended with her death, so be it. 

There was a flash of movement in the distance, then a loud snap of branches. Blaire stepped out from her perch, aimed carefully towards the sound and bravely released her arrow. It went through the bushes, hitting nothing but leaves and dirt. She sighed and readied another arrow before stepping further away from her hiding spot. Once again there was no movement, no sign of life. She stepped closer to the open area, her hands steady yet back aching from her crouched position. Suddenly, just as took another step, there was movement to the right of her. 

She turned just in time to avoid another arrow, once more almost touching her cheek. She pulled back arm and released The quiver just before her attacker could evade. There was a loud grunt of pain coming from behind the tree. She readied another arrow, stalking slowly towards him as she kept her eye on that spot. 

“Not bad,” he grunted, a flash of his sleeve briefly entered Blair’s line of sight before disappearing, “your aim could use a bit of work, but not bad.”

“My aim appears to be fine since I hit my target.” Blaire stepped carefully, attempting to make as little noise as possible in her slow advance. 

“If your intent was to graze my arm then yes, your aim is perfect.”

“Got you to stop, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” he laughed, “I suppose it did.”

She took another step, “why don’t you come out? Talk face to face?”

“I must say, I’m tempted. Hearing your lovely voice can only mean you have a face to match, but considering you’re well prepared to kill me once I reveal myself, I sadly must decline.” There was more movement from behind the tree, she took a breath to steady her trembling nerves. 

“Who says I’m going to kill you?”

“Well you did just escape my brother, holding a weapon you’re clearly not afraid to use, and haven’t given any inclination to suggest otherwise.” He took a deep breath, “How did you manage to get your hands on a weapon so quickly?”

Her brow creased in confusion, “I brought it with me.” 

“You and I both know that’s not true.” His tone darkened, his movement lessened, “I thought you would know better than to be dishonest after your latest punishment, or are you really as stupid as my brother says?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, thinking him to be mad.

“Come now, wench. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I speak of.”

A thought suddenly occurred to her, “do you think I’m the servant girl that piece of shit was dragging through the courtyard?” 

He hesitated before answering, “Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m the one who shot that scum of a lord off his horse.” Blaire took another step towards him during her declaration, taking a breath steady her resolve when he revealed himself. 

He was handsome, almost like the young lord, his brother, and appeared to be not much older than Blaire. Her guess was 12, 14 at the most. He had the same dark hair, a similar face, and both pale and slender characteristics as his brother. His eyes matched his brother’s as they contained the same cold and sadistic qualities, but something was different about his. There was an emptiness hidden within the depths of his bright eyes that conflicted with his love of inflicting pain. Suddenly she had the image of a sad little boy looking at his father and brother talking in the distance, desperately wanting to be part of the conversation while knowing that he can’t. There was so much within those depths, so much that yearned to be seen. 

He looked at her strangely, studying her as keenly as she studied him. His handsome face clouded with confusion the longer he looked at her. Something about her surprised him. Was it the way she refused to loosen her hold on her arrow? The rigid stance in which she took to fend him off should she miss? Was it her strange eyes, or was it something else entirely?

He took a step towards her, the leather of his dark coat scratching the leaves on the bush next to him. She refused to move away, ready to release at a moment’s breath. He didn’t seem to mind, his eyes fixed on hers. “You’re not afraid of me?”

Her brow creased once more, “Why would I be?” Her response triggered a vast change in his expression, a change she didn’t fully understand. 

“I’m not like other men you’ve encountered.”

“And I’m not like other girls.” She countered with a glare, and a flash of a smile crossed his lips before they returned to their firm set. 

“Who are you?” He asked, his eyes intent.

She opened her mouth to answer when a loud crack sounded behind her. 

She turned to face it on instinct, realizing her mistake only when footsteps sounded behind her. She attempted to turn back when a strong arm wrapped at her waist and a hand went to her mouth, halting the grunt of panic. He pulled her back against his chest and into the thicket of dark, mossy trees where he was originally hiding. She dropped her bow and used the arrow to try and stab him in the sides. He grunted in pain as he released his hold on her waist to roughly pull it from her hand. She took the opportunity to elbow him in the stomach where the sharp edge of the arrow grazed him. He doubled over slightly, but it was not enough to escape him. 

His arm wrapped around her waist once more as he pulled her back behind the tree, leaning against it as he started shushing her. 

“Stop, they’ll hear us.”

She continued to struggle within his embrace for another moment until she heard voices in the distance. She grew still, her hands unconsciously holding his arms as men's voices floated towards them. 

“Can’t believe we fucking lost her.” A scratchy, angry voice spoke, and Blair’s attacker stiffened. 

“How does one lose a beaten servant girl?” A smooth, arrogant voice said, closer to them this time as footsteps rang loudly through the silent forest. 

“By a rogue archer apparently, though no one saw the culprit.”

“Lord Domeric did, said it was a boy no more than eight, a mangy thing with dirty clothes and dirty hair. Believes him to be one of the travelers that arrived today with the wheat stock.” The arrogant man responded, closer now than before. “Isn’t his bastard brother out looking for the bitch as well?”

“Aye, and if he finds, she won’t live to see the dawn.”

“If she does she’ll wish she hadn’t.”

“The bastard likes to play with pretty girls, she was lucky the true born decided to claim her instead of him. There’s something wrong with that lad.”

“True,” there was a rustle of movement in the bushes behind her. She moved instinctively for her dagger, preparing for the worst. Her attacker tightened his hold in response, his lips pressing against her temple.  _ Don’t move _ he breathed so faintly, so softly that she wasn’t entirely sure those were his words when the arrogant man’s voice sounded again.

“The archer has been through here.”

The angry voice scoffed, “How so?”

“They left their bow behind,” Blaire stiffened at the proclamation, and her attacker responded in kind. 

“Must still be learning,” the angry voice paused, “or perhaps the servant girl managed to grab a weapon in her escape?”

“Only to abandon it when she needed it most?”

“The girl was never very bright, why else would Lord Bolton allow his son to drag her the courtyard like that?”

“Spill one to many chamber pots and you’ll be fed to the dogs,” the arrogant man laughed as his footsteps sounded away. “Let’s go through there, rogue archer or not if that bitch isn’t found we’ll all be dead by morning.”

“Aye, let’s hurry. It won’t be long until nightfall.”

There was more grumbling from the pair for a moment more as they left the clearing, and then silence. They waited for a long moment, barely moving as the wind rustled the trees and his hot breath caressed her exposed cheek. Ever so slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth. “If I release you, will you attack me?”

“Only if you give me reason too,” she retorted, her hands gingerly searching for her dagger. 

He chuckled in her ear, and released her from his grasp. She stepped away from him and back towards the clearing.

“Shit” she cursed as she searched the area for her fallen bow. 

“They must have taken it with them,” she turned to see him smirking at her, his eyes studying her once more. 

“Why did you protect me?” She stepped towards him, searching those hidden depths. 

He didn’t answer at first. He studied her a moment more as he took very careful steps towards her, watching her curiously. She watched him with equal vigor, refusing to back down as he closed the space between them. 

“You’re really not afraid of me?” It was a question, but he said it as a statement. 

“No, I’m not.” She stepped forward as well, refusing to break eye contact. 

Her words and actions strongly affected him, and touched him in a way he’s never experienced before. Deep in those hidden depths she saw the slow spread of warmth creep into his eyes. Blue and green eyes, her eyes flashed in her mind. 

His hand went to her cheek beneath her blue eye. His skin was rough and cold. “Who are you?”

She looked deeper into those depths, only finding honest curiosity, “Blaire.”

Surprise crossed his face “Blaire?” 

“Yes,” she paused, her face subtly leaning into his touch, “Who are you?”

“Ramsay Snow” his voice was blunt, like the ends of the practice blades Sir Rodrik would use. The backs of his fingers caressed her cheek with a reverence that she couldn’t understand. He moved forward slightly, an unconscious effort on his part, his lips parting slightly. 

“I’ve never met someone who hasn’t feared me. Whenever I meet a stranger, whether commoner or Lord, they have always been weary, careful to keep their distance. At first I thought it was because I was the bastard, the scum on my father’s boot that can’t be cleaned away. As I grew older I realized it was not simply my moniker, but my disposition that everyone feared, and in time I came to accept their fear of me, embraced it even. It’s easy to do when you’re a Bolton.

Yet you, sweet Blaire, standing before me with no hesitation, no wistful longing for a place far away from here, from me. I sense no fear in you, why is that?”

“It’s easy to fear or hate what you don’t understand. I’ve always known what it’s like to be mistreated by those who couldn’t, or wouldn’t see past my strange eyes, my wild nature, or the mark I’ve bared since my birth.” She raised her marked hand then, revealing the dark wings on the back before turning over to show the spiral. 

He took her hand with both of his, tracing the red markings with his cool, calloused fingers as she continued, “My parents sent me away because they didn’t want me. I’ve always been wild, eager to fight and knock down those who threaten or oppose me. I suppose it became too much for them to bare because now here I am. Talking with a boy not much older than myself who seems much older than he appears, a boy who had every right and opportunity to kill me, yet protected me instead. From his own men no doubt. The same boy who’s surprised to find that I don’t fear him, but why should I fear him when I know what it’s like to be him? To be ousted or ignored by your family and ridiculed by strangers wherever you go just because you’re different. How could I fear someone like that?”

The look he gave her she didn’t quite understand. She saw relief cross his face, but it morphed into something stronger, wilder than she’s ever seen before. He took one last step forward, his chest now touching hers. She didn’t realize how tall he was until she realized she was eye level with his shoulder, and had to crane her neck up to look at him. One of his hands went to her neck, his thumb rubbing her jawline. 

“I’m going to keep you, sweet Blaire. Hide you away so father and brother can never find you.”

His voice was so soft, so gentle that Blaire almost missed what he said. Almost. When the weight of his words struck her, she struck back. 

She roughly pulled from his grip and pushed his chest with all her might. He was surprised by her sudden attack, and unprepared to stop her as he went tumbling back into the muck. He landed hard on his back, and before he could retaliate Blaire was on top of him, dagger in hand as he pressed it to his throat.

“I’m not one for hiding, or being kept.” She leaned down slightly, whispering to him, “and just because I know what you are doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to kill you. Understand?”

He grinned beneath her, laughing at her actions, especially when she pressed harder with the dagger. 

“If not hidden or kept, how else would I get you to stay?”

“You could have asked me nicely, but now I’m not so sure.”

“What if I help train you? With bow and sword?”

She considered, “what of your brother? Your father?”

“You heard what the soldiers said, he saw a dirty common boy, not a beautiful, fiery girl with a warrior’s heart. All we have to do is get you cleaned up, and get you fresh clothes.”

“How about navigating a forest?” Though this trip didn’t end as terribly as it could have, Blaire didn’t want a repeat performance. 

“Of course,” he smiled.

She pursed her lips, believing it to good to be true, yet saw no deception in his eyes. She pondered what the best course of action would be when she finally pulled the dagger away from his neck, standing as she placed the dagger back where it belongs. 

He eagerly stood before her, gently grabbing her hand and leading her back towards the Dreadfort, “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” and safe she was. 

Ramsay never broke his word to Blaire. During her stay, he helped her improve her archery, her skills with the sword, and spent many hours and showed an endless amount of patience as they trekked through the forest many times until she could find her way out of the woods without his help. Jaeda was less than thrilled with the extended stay, claiming the Dreadfort was not a welcoming place to be. Blaire paid it no mind.

Lord Bolton had been surprisingly gracious to Blaire, as was Domeric who never recognized her as the one who shot him down. The Bolton’s subjects were far grimmer than those of Winterfell, but this lot kept to themselves, their eyes to the ground as they shuffled through day in and day out. The days were always dreary and the nights were often cold. Blaire couldn’t be happier. 

A few of Lord Stark’s soldiers arrived to claim her not long after she learned to navigate through the forest. They stayed for a few days to rest and allow Blaire to say goodbye to Ramsay. The parting was not as bad as she had expected, only a simple goodbye before the two would undoubtedly meet again.

“Don’t worry, Ramsay. We’ll see each other again, that I promise” she said to him before climbing onto Casper, who still maintained his hatred of men, and trotted away back home. 

Since then the two have maintained correspondence, writing to each through Raven’s whenever they had the chance. Lord Stark was aware of it, but no one else was, not to Blair’s knowledge. 

Twice since their first meeting has Blaire visited Ramsay, and both times were amazing and wonderful. He always treated her as he first did, but when it came to others she saw the cold cruelty take hold of him much like with Lord Bolton and his brother Domeric, who had taken a keen interest in her that unnerved her, particularly when she started to grow up. She began to see what others felt, though she knew she too needed to be weary, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Not once has he given any indication that he might hurt her, and if he did she would have taken him down and stopped him. 

The wind fluttered ends of the page as Blaire stared at his letter. It has been so long since she last saw him, yet now as she read his warning she realized it might be even longer before she could see him again. At long last she folded the letter and placed it in her pocket. She spent her time pondering, now she needed to stand watch. 

It was mid day when she started hearing whispers amongst Winterfell. The fellow soldiers along the wall with her wouldn’t shut up, glancing at her now and again. She ignored them, unsurprised by their whispers. She was used to it after all these years. She dutifully continued her duties by watching the horizon until she caught the loud, arduous words of Sir Rodrik and his son passing through the entrance below her.

“Get those lads into shape. I want them to be expert swordsman before they arrive.”

“Understood father.”

“Only a fortnight to prepare for The King and the Royal family, and the Gods praises us if we have that long. Up off your arses boys, The King will be arriving before we know it!”

Blaire abandoned her post to stare down at the passing Master of Arms with wide, unbelieving eyes. The King was coming? To Winterfell? Surely this was a joke?

She studied Sir Rodrik’s hurried pace, his stiff, frustrated demeanor as he charged through the courtyard, his son struggling to keep up. 

Blaire cursed, shocked at the revelation. The King was truly coming, with the Royal family in tow. She didn’t know how to feel about the news, confused seemed to be easiest emotion to feel with good reason. Out of all the years rarely, if ever has a southern King trekked this far north merely for a social visit. Something brought this about, but what could it be?

Her hand went to her pocket.  _ A great tragedy has struck the royal court  _ he wrote, but who’s tragedy could it be? She had little time to think about it when Sir Rodrik’s voice bellowed once more.

“Toby! Where’s Blaire?”

“Watch duty, sir!”

Blaire reared back out of sight, quickly gathering her things and running for it. Blaire wasn’t scared of many things, but she knew better than to be in Sir Rodrik’s presence when he was in a mood. It didn’t help that she technically wasn’t supposed to do watch duty with the soldiers. Lord Stark allowed it because she was the best archer in Winterfell, but Sir Rodrik didn’t approve and never hesitated to stop her nonsense. His voice bellowed louder than before as she quickly snuck passed the soldiers and towards the small opening on top of the wall that she could use to climb down instead of opting for the stairs where Sir Rodrik would undoubtedly go. 

“Better hurry bastard!” The soldiers laughed as she swung her leg of the mortar, grabbed a tight hold on the stone, and descended. 

She made it to the ground safely enough, not once losing her footing as she landed on the thick green grass with a light thud. Once there she ran back towards the entrance, her eyes looking out for Sir Rodrik. He was ascending the stairs just as she made it through the entrance. She did her best to blend in with the crowd of people, but it was not an easy task. 

She was taller than most of the people there, taller than most people she met if she was honest, and stuck out like a sore thumb. It also didn’t help that the moment they saw her they immediately backed away like she was some disgusting plague. She wanted to curse them all, beat them within an inch of her life, but had little time to when Sir Rodrik called once more.

“Blaire Storm! Stop there this instant!”

Blaire cursed again, pondering the best path to take. Wait and endure his endless rant about how she was a girl and needed to act like one, not play with swords and arrows when she could kill someone or run for it and hope she runs into either Lord Stark or his children? She thought on it, and made the few steps to escape when she was stopped by none other than Theon Greyjoy. 

His smile was cruel as he placed a hand on her shoulder, waving off Sir Rodrik, “Don’t worry sir, I’ll take it from here.”

“What do you want, Greyjoy?” She knocked off his hand as if it were a rat. 

“Lady Stark has asked for you presence. Sounded urgent.”

“Why does Lady Stark desire my presence?”

“Don’t know, I’m just following orders.”

“And you do it so well,” she pushed passed him, glaring at the crowd with all her might as they cowered away from her. 

Ignorant fools, always afraid of what they don’t understand. 

She ignored the stares and fearful looks from the people as she headed into the castle. Theon followed behind her with a smile on his face. 

In no time at all she stood in front of Lady Stark in the Great Hall. She too was very stiff and frustrated in her demeanor, a line started to form between her brows that threatened to become a permanent fixture. 

“Blaire, good of you to come.” She mumbled, briefly glancing at her over the paper in her hand.

“Apologies, my Lady. I didn’t realize you had asked for me.”

“No need for that, come with me.” She handed the page to Maester Luwin, who looked just as stressed bent over a stack of papers at the big table. She grabbed her arm, a very rare physical action on Lady Stark’s part. It shocked Blaire enough to let the Lady pull her along. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about our guests that will be arriving soon?”

“The King and the Royal Court?”

“Yes,” she pulled her off to the side of the Great Hall, “ and I need to talk to you about that.”

Blaire gave her a confused look, “why would you need to talk to me about The King and the Royal family?”

She sighed, refusing to look at her, “It’s no secret Blaire. You’ve been known to be reckless in your actions during your stay here, reckless to your detriment.”

Blaire pulled away slightly, “Pardon my intrusion my lady, but how exactly has it been to my detriment?”

She gave a scornful look, “Need I mention the tarring incident?” 

Blaire pursed her lips, jerking her head side to side. 

The Lady patted her hand, “I know I can trust you Blaire. There is no one outside of this family I would trust with the lives of my children more than you.”

“Yet you don’t want me in the King’s presence?”

She sighed again, “I’m sorry Blaire, but I request that when the Royal family arrives you will do well to stay out of there way.”

She looked long and hard at Lady Starks face, trying to see what motive she had for asking such a thing. She still wouldn't look at her. How strange, Catelyn Stark was the most forward and honest person Blaire ever had the pleasure of knowing, yet here she was hiding whatever her true motives and intentions for wanting Blaire kept away from the Royal family.

She thought on what the Lady said, about her reckless behavior being the cause of her request. Perhaps it wasn’t unfair of her to make such request considering the chaos Blaire caused during her stay here. The fights, the random disappearances where she ventured into the forest weeks at a time, more fights, almost burning someone alive with molten tar, more fights, and more fights on top of that. 

Blaire relented, slightly nodding, “As you wish, my Lady. When the Royal family arrive I’ll stay out of sight.”

“Thank you,” she squeezed her hand slightly, “Now start preparing the children, make sure they know to be on their best behavior when they arrive.”

“Understood,” Blaire nodded. “What of Jon?”

The look Lady Stark gave her at the sound of his name made Blaire clench her fist, “He too will not be permitted to be in the presence of the Royal Court, something I’m sure he’s already been made aware of. Now please leave, I have a feast to prepare for.”

She briskly walked away, pushing past Blaire and towards the table where Maester Luwin had abandoned his papers and was staring intensely at Blaire. He would often look at Blaire in that fashion, it was just his way. Watching her with vast disappoint or worry over what she’ll do next. She used to get angry about it, but now she was amused by it. What can she do to make those ridiculous eyes pop out of their sockets with shock?

His stare today was different than normal. Disappointment and worry did not cloud his intensity, but a curious gleam lit his expression as he stared at her. What could he be so curious about? Blaire didn’t dain to ponder the implications behind his gaze. Instead she nodded her head to him, turned on her heel and left the Hall, intent on finding Arya and play a game on Sansa before the time for games was over. 


End file.
